Transition
by valeriebean
Summary: After going their separate ways and living planetside for a few years, Mal and his crew make plans to return to the sky. Family drama. Reunion fic, canon pairings. Comes after 'Back on Their Feet.' About 25 years post-BDM.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

Inara sat quickly on the porch swing as a sharp pain stabbed through her torso. Breathing deeply, she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest trying to contain the whimper of pain tingling in her throat. In a moment it passed, leaving only the warm kiss of sunshine on her skin and the gentle caress of the autumn breeze. Sitting sideways on the swing's bench, she leaned against the arms and stretched her legs across the seat, tilting her head side to side to induce a gentle rocking motion. Inara loved this swing. It could be sub-zero in the dead of winter, and she'd still come out here, bundled and blanketed, armed with hot tea, absorbing the peacefulness of rocking slowly and staring at the sky.

The postman trundled up their street, laden with a full bag and a few small packages. Inara laughed as Mal dashed out of the house and intercepted the courier while he was still several doors away. Mal loved getting mail. Little Zoë had always been good about sending postcard, and even though she'd been living with them the last ten months, recovering from her latest cancer relapse, she'd started sneaking out to the post office and having things mailed back to the house. Zoë wrote elaborate tales of her adventures, most of them made up to protect the true nature of her work.

The boys didn't use courier post as much. Cole would send them a wave a few times a week. Michael was a wild card and if he didn't randomly show up at their doorstep begging for handouts, he'd send anything from pictures to classified senate proceedings, all via cortex and only occasionally encrypted. When Jayne had demanded Michael return Vera, Michael sent him a ransom note and a dented laser site wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. Inara thought it was distasteful, but Mal and Jayne had laughed for weeks.

Mal hurried back to the house, head ducked, ripping open the letter that had come for him. He nearly stumbled over the footlights, but he covered it with a funny little jump and landed softly in the grass. Dropping his arms to his side, he stomped his foot and swore loudly.

"Denied again?" Inara asked, smiling at his childish reaction to the letter.

Mal made a face, and came over to the swing, lifting her feet and setting them on his lap as he sat. "I shouldn't be surprised that it's damn near impossible for a man of my reputation to get a business loan for a gun shop."

"Or Jayne's," Inara added. "You're just as likely to buy the armory and run."

He shook his head and smiled at her, absently running his fingers along her calves. This was the twelfth denial letter he'd gotten, but he never lost heart for long. He had confidence that the dream would come to fruition at the right time. Inara hoped that time came sooner rather than later, because she was getting frustrated with his persistent 'reorganizing' of the house.

"It's a little early for you to hit the swing," he commented. It was his way of asking her if she was getting as old and frail as he was without saying it out loud.

"I had an early morning. Zoë and I went into town," she said. She hadn't told him about the on and off pain she'd been feeling, and side-stepped his question without even thinking about it. Pulling up the hem of her pants, she showed off the black, strappy platform heels with floral embroidery that she'd bought for herself to match the embroidered blouse she had on.

"How are you gonna walk in those?" Mal carped, lifting her foot high and eying it critically. She cringed, anticipating him tickling her behind the knee, but he surprised her by poking at the shoe and wriggling his finger in the instep.

"Zoë wanted to celebrate the fact that she could walk at all," Inara giggled, trying to reclaim her leg before she inadvertently kicked him in the head. "You should see the ones she got."

"No wonder I'm broke," Mal complained. It wasn't a real point of contention between them. Inara's entire budget for new shoes came from reselling her old ones. Mal sprawled his arms over the back of the swing, his playfulness replaced with melancholy, and he sighed again.

"There's gotta be some way to get the money we need to start – without stealing it."

It was the first time he'd expressed any disheartenment about the delay in the dream. Inara had been thinking for awhile now if there was any thing she could do, and while she had money stashed away, accessing it would be risky. For Mal, it was worth it.

"I know a way," she said, scooting closer to him and tracing the buttons on his shirt. "I have a confession. I'm independently wealthy."

Mal rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna make you sell all your pretty shoes so I can open a gun shop."

"Oh, thank you," Inara laughed, then she sat a little straighter. "But what I mean is when I was actively Companioning, I put a portion of my earnings into a retirement account. I'm sure with the interest rates I locked in, there's more than enough to start your business."

For a solid minute, Mal stared at her, trying to process the words. "How come you haven't mentioned this before?"

Inara didn't want to settle accounts with the Guild, but now that her son was working there, she'd probably get leniency for delaying things as much as she had. "There's some protocol with the Guild for unlocking it, and I don't have access until I turn fifty-five."

"Like that'll ever happen," Mal griped, then he shook his head in mock hopelessness. "Zoë told me your secret years ago – you have no birthday and that's why you never age."

"Ah. Then I have another confession. I have a birthday," Inara teased, giggling coyly. "Would you like to know when it is?"

Mal bit his lip, then wiped the smile off his face, replacing it with an uncertain scowl. "I don't know. It's been kinda nice not having to remember a specific date to buy you presents on. I like gettin' you stuff whenever I feel like it."

"I like that too." Inara leaned in and kissed him, thinking she could just as easily get the money without revealing a specific birth date. She loved when he'd spring gifts on her, and he had a calendar that he marked whenever she let the words 'it's not even my birthday' slip out. The last time she'd checked, he'd narrowed it to 83 possible days. It amazed her that he hadn't given up and that he hadn't circumvented her and asked her parents.

"But supposing you did tell me," Mal said softly, tilting his head as she kissed along his neck. "Would you want the cake and the candles and the whole family gathered?"

"So long as you don't put a hundred candles on the cake or decorate the yard with black signs and headstones that say 'over the hill.'"

"Oh, so you mean I can't do what you did for my last birthday?" Mal said, tickling her sides playfully. She squirmed and fell into his lap and he caught her head before she could bang it on the chain of the swing.

"The hickory cane was Jayne's idea," Inara said defensively as he kept tickling her.

"But adding the little horn and the rearview mirror to it –"

"You enjoyed it!"

"Who's to say you won't enjoy what I have in mind for you?" Mal said mischievously. As much as she trusted him, it still made her uneasy. She'd never handled pranks as well as he did.

"I won't give you the money if –"

Mal pressed a finger over her mouth, then covered her lips with a kiss before she could finish the thought. She was still too nervous to kiss back.

"No need for threats," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "I love you, wife. I'll get everyone together, but the only ones who'll know it's your real birthday are you and me. I won't even make a cake."

Inara closed her eyes and felt safe in his arms.

*~*


	2. Part 1

PART 1

Little Zoë loved autumn more than any other time of year on Deadwood. The grass was still green from summer rains, but the humidity was gone and the air was perfectly cool. The soft grass tickled between her toes as she padded through it, tossing a Frisbee back and forth with Michael. She'd left her new shoes on the porch because the heels kept sinking into the soil. The stitches on her spine itched against her shirt and her abs were straining in protest about being upright, but she was so tired of sitting, and she wanted to be active while the pain pills were still working at their max. She'd never had the cancer hit her nervous system so hard and she found rehab incredibly frustrating and boring. Her control over the Frisbee left much to be desired.

"How many are coming?" she asked Michael. He'd arrived early that morning for their parents' big party and nearly scared her to death by climbing through her window and crawling into bed next to her. One day, she'd tell him to stop doing that, but it was so precious that he wanted to spend that part of his day with her. That time was his. She'd hear more about his life in the twenty minutes before dawn than she would the entire twenty hours after.

"Just three," he answered, tossing the Frisbee back to her. She was making him run, but he was considerately giving her easy tosses. "Berke, Jarvis, and Courtney."

"You're bringing the guys to hide the fact that you're bringing the girl," Zoë teased and Michael made a face. "I always thought you'd get back with Chelsea. You two had such chemistry."

"In the daytime," Michael allowed. "At night, she was so loud, I could never sleep."

"Are you talking about snoring or the psychic equivalent?"

Michael held the Frisbee reflectively, forgetting to toss as his thoughts mulled over his ex. Michael claimed he'd done the leaving, but he clearly still had strong feelings for her.

"Was she your first?" Zoë asked.

Michael gave her a questioning look and she shot him the 'you know what I mean' eyebrow raise. She'd already left home when the family moved to Deadwood, and Michael didn't talk much about the girls he dated. He tossed the Frisbee high, making her jump for it.

"My sex life is not something I want to discuss with my sister," he said dismissively.

"How about your brother?"

Both Zoë and Michael froze in surprise as Cole jumped the fence and strode across the back yard.

"Cole!" Zoë squealed, running toward him and hugging him. Michael glomped them both and Zoë hissed at the pull on their injuries. Cole was solid as a wall and Zoë was crushed between her two brothers.

"I thought you weren't getting here 'til tonight," Zoë said.

"It's amazing how fast a ship can go when it's not held together with bubble gum and duct tape," Cole said. He'd caught on to Zoë's discomfort and made her sit down on the steps by the back porch.

"So, which 'she' are we talking about and was she your first?" Cole asked Michael good-humoredly.

Michael threw up his hands in frustration and turned his back, but Cole grabbed his arm and pulled him back, forcing him to stay with a firm arm around his shoulder.

"Sorry. Don't mean to pry," Cole said.

"Yes you do," Michael groused, batting at Cole's hand, trying to twist free. "A gentleman does not kiss and tell."

Cole looked to Zoë.

"I was asking about the new pilot on the Cadence," Zoë explained.

"Oh, she's not his first. She's at least third," Cole said flippantly and Michael turned a horrid shade of pink. "I've narrowed the first one down to two, but he won't tell me who the lucky lady was."

"Don't think their names! It's cruel," Michael cried jerking away from Cole and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "It's not like you think. I loved her. I loved –"

Michael clenched his fist and glowered. "Not all of us are built for monogamy. Yesu, most days, I swear I'm not built for people."

"Sorry I brought it up," Zoë apologized, leaning over to pat Michael's leg. "I just wanted to know how serious you were about this girl before we meet her. Family gatherings are kinda like throwing people to the wolves."

"He doesn't have to sex her to prove he's serious," Cole defended. Cole was among that rare breed of men who hadn't had sex until he was married to his wife – and it wasn't for lack of opportunity.

"But seriously," Cole said, turning to Michael. "What's her name and how serious is it?"

Michael's face scrunched and he started getting that flustered look like he'd been picked on too much. Zoë took pity on her little brother.

"The pilot's name –"

"Her name is Courtney," Michael interrupted. For a man built like an ox, he could get extremely quiet and vulnerable. "She's been on the ship maybe two months. Sex, no. Serious ... I don't know. But we're friends and we get along. She's a soother... like Cole."

Zoë sat up straighter. Michael rarely described a person in terms of psychic impression unless they were unusual. "What do you mean like Cole?"

Cole looked confused as well, but seeing how upset Michael was getting, he held back any snarky comments. He pulled Michael into a gentle one-armed hug. "Do you want to tell us, di di?"

Michael stuttered and looked at the ground, searching for words to explain how he perceived the world. Zoë stood up and pressed closer to their circle so Michael wouldn't have to speak so loud to be heard.

"I always thought it was the way you were," he said, looking at Cole gratefully and guiltily. "But I meet people every now and again that have that same effect. It's as if you create this bubble so that I can still tell what's going on in the world, but it can't overwhelm me. I feel it even now, and it helps me talk."

Michael took a deep breath and placed his hand over Cole's, squeezing until he milked a fresh hug from his brother. His eyes flickered toward Zoë.

"It's different than when a regular person calms me," he told her. "With you or Mama or Baba, you get yourself quiet and I sit in that peace and it filters things. With Cole, it doesn't make a bit of difference how quiet he is, because he builds the tower around me. I see every facet of the noise and understand it all. It's a fortress – more protected."

Michael fell quiet and leaned his head against Cole's arm as a show that he was done talking.

"I don't get it," Cole said.

Zoë furrowed her brow, trying to understand her brother's words, wishing she had a recorder and could play them back. "You're talking about people that are – for lack of a better word – designed to be protectors to a reader?"

Michael shrugged and kept his eyes on his feet. "I've only met a few."

Cole smiled broadly, trying to lighten the mood. "I feel so special."

"Do they have siblings who are readers?" Zoë persisted.

Michael shook his head and shrugged again. "I don't know. Uncle Simon's not a soother, if that's where you're going. Courtney never mentions her family. Of course, before I invited her here, I never mentioned mine. Please don't interrogate her when she comes."

Zoë practically jumped out of her skin as the back door screeched open and their father came out.

"There you are! I thought I heard someone shouting your name." Mal said, yanking Cole up the steps to give him a hug. Since Cole and Michael were still attached, he ended up with both of them. Zoë smiled and placed a hand on Michael's back to keep him from stumbling on the stairs.

"Have they been picking on you?" Mal asked Michael as he separated his boys enough to get one arm around each of them.

"Michael was just asking us not to embarrass him too much when his girlfriend gets here," Zoë said.

"Not girlfriend," Michael whined.

Mal winked at Zoë conspiratorially. "I'll make sure to hide the baby books from Mama."

"Where is Mama?" Cole asked. If he'd come that evening like he was supposed to, Mama would've been waiting on the front swing to greet him.

"Upstairs," Mal said with a nod. "She'll tell you she turned her foot when she was fixing up the garden, but I think she fell off her fancy new shoes."

"I wish I could borrow her shoes," Zoë sighed as her father shot her an accusing look.

"Would've saved me some if you two shared."

Zoë flexed her ankles and scrunched her nose. "Stupid giant feet!"

"Where's your wife?" Mal asked Cole, as Cole tried to break away and go inside.

"Still parking the space ship," Cole said. He held up his hands defensively when they all gave him the same concerned look. "She disagreed with the port master on the daily rate, and ... sometimes I just need to get out of her way."

"Just you two?" Mal asked. "No Jamie?"

Cole shook his head and sighed. "Us, plus four from the crew."

"Plus three from mine," Michael said, raising a finger.

"Plus the owner of the shoe warehouse and possibly her two daughters," Zoë added, laughing at the raised eyebrow she got from her father. "We got to talking! Mama invited them."

"Mama's in your room?" Cole asked, trying to duck out from under Mal's arm again. This time, Mal let him go and he tugged Michael by the elbow, leading him toward the garage.

"Come on, set-up guru," Mal said. "Let's set up the smoker."

*~*

Zoë watched to make sure Michael was okay before she dashed in after Cole. As easy as it was to get Cole to talk, it was next to impossible to get him to say anything deep without being one-on-one.

"Is everything okay between you and Genny?" Zoë asked, following him through the kitchen and then the hallway. Cole gave her a look as he rounded the banister and started up the stairs.

"Yes, I mean to pry," Zoë said firmly.

"Our marriage is great. The work is stressful," Cole said tersely, not looking back at her.

"I can't believe you talked the Guild into signing over that space ship to her," Zoë said, dropping the topic as a test. "She's never even crewed a vessel like that."

"It's just four months probationary and we've already decided she'll relinquish command at the end of the term," Cole said mechanically, then he froze on the stair. He hadn't meant to reveal that.

"Why?"

Cole looked at his shoes and took a quick breath. "Um, can you not repeat that to anyone."

"Why would you give the ship back?" Zoë pressed, grabbing Cole's elbow to turn him around. "Trust me, Cole, it'll take you a few months to settle in, but you'll get it."

Cole sighed, and looked sideways at the pictures on the wall.

"The stress is coming between you?" Zoë asked worriedly.

"No, it's…" He covered his mouth to keep from saying anything else he didn't want, but she could see in his eyes that he wanted to talk. "Okay fine. You didn't hear this from me and you can't repeat this to anyone."

Zoë nodded. Cole looked around like the whole house was bugged and he chickened out.

"I shouldn't even be hinting that there's something to know," he said critically. "Genny will kill me. She'll bury me alive and dance on my grave, I'm not exaggerating."

"Cole."

"Okay, I'm exaggerating a little," he said, and started up the stairs again. Zoë placed a hand on his shoulder and he stopped walking. Placing his hand over hers, he shook his head and laughed softly to himself.

"I wish you weren't so concerned," he said, looking her directly in the eye with a grateful, disarming smile. "Honestly, Zoë, there is nothing for you to worry about. Genny and I are fine. Everything is shiny. But don't go mentioning about the ship. Please."

Zoë stayed quiet a moment, keeping eye contact, trying to discern if he was putting on an act. Cole had enough charm and charisma to make her believe the tooth fairy was real and gravity was a myth.

"Ok," she finally agreed. "I'm here for you, you know that. And I'm very good with secrets."

Cole's eyes crinkled and a ripple of emotion tightened the skin on his face as he looked away again. He bounced on his feet uncertainly. Zoë had seen him distraught before, but she'd never seen him like this.

"If I tell you this, you have to promise to keep it under wraps," he said.

"Of course."

"You can't even let on to Genny that you know anything," Cole said.

Zoë put on her best poker face and was surprised when Cole broke into a broad smile. She hadn't been expecting good news.

"Ok, good, because I've been dying to tell someone."

Cole leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I'm going to be a dad!"

"What!" Zoë squealed, but Cole clamped a hand over her mouth. Zoë's mind raced and she had a sudden urge to shout at the top of her voice. They were both snickering and smiling like goons, but after a few moments of giddiness, with a deep breath, they both went expressionless. Zoë managed to keep a straight face until Cole broke into gleeful giggles again. She could see why it was killing him not to tell everyone, but she supposed he and Genny had their reasons. It was going to be difficult for Zoë to keep the smile off her face, and Cole waved her away, because he knew if she followed him into Mama's room, they'd give themselves away.

"Not a peep," Cole warned when he was at the top of the stairs and she at the bottom.

"If you're lying to me, I will bury you alive and dance on your grave," Zoë warned. "I am not exaggerating."

*~*

Mal was glad for the growing guest list, because he'd gotten a little carried away at the butcher shop and bought himself a whole cow. It was his momma's fault for bringing him up on a ranch. Mal had never wanted his own ranch, but he wouldn't mind having a head or two of his own. Inara wouldn't let him though. Whenever Mal got close to negotiating a deal on a steer, Inara would sic Cole on him, and that boy had more wiles and manipulation skills than any person Mal had ever met. Sometimes Mal wondered if Cole had some special mind power like Michael.

As Mal rolled the smoker out into the yard, Michael stood in the middle of the garage, staring at tidy stack of boxes where his childhood had been packed away. Everything was organized and in boxes as far as he could go without Inara yelling at him that she needed something.

"Is it done?" Mal asked.

Michael nodded. "As of tomorrow, you are the new Captain of Serenity II – or, whatever you decide to name her. Berke is bringing the final paperwork tonight."

The conversation nudged Michael back into motion and he went to their giant meat refrigerator to select the first round of cuts that needed smoking. Mal had showed both his boys how to slaughter a cow and tried to teach them the finer points of selecting quality beef, but having grown up on a ship, they considered anything that wasn't a protein supplement high quality food. As fresh meat went, Michael preferred bird game and were it not for his Mama, he'd have shot every duck in their creek by now.

"Is Mama excited?" Michael asked as they rolled the smoker into the back yard.

"Still working out how to tell her," Mal answered, arranging the charcoal in the smoker. This was probably his last chance to use this thing for awhile, and it would be one of the things he missed about being planet side. "I can't bring the ship here and I can't move the party there –"

"Not to question your epic vision, Pops, but why would you want all of us there?"

Mal paused and stared blankly at the coals. "Well it's from all of us. What would you suggest?"

Michael shook his head patronizingly and patted Mal on the back. "I would've suggested telling her that her life is about to change drastically _before_ everyone showed up, and not springing it on her while everyone is watching. But containment is not an issue. Don't you worry, I've got it covered."

"Okay," Mal said slowly, looking toward his bedroom window. He knew Inara wanted to leave the world. He wasn't worried about that … until now. "So I …"

Michael clapped him on the shoulder. "And here I thought you were a romantic. Tease her with it. Take her out of the world and show her the stars. And when you see her wishing that she don't have to come back here, tell her she doesn't. That's what I would do."

Mal looked at the sky, imagining the moments as Michael described them and Michael smiled wistfully, coveting the fairy tale. Michael was a hopeless romantic, and loved freely, but he danced between women because he struggled constantly with trust. Mal often pointed out that there was a difference between lying to someone and simply keeping a part hidden. There were plenty of things in his life that he never shared with Inara. But in the end, Mal had to concede that he wasn't hiding an ability that half the 'verse believed was fiction. His secrets wouldn't get him whisked away to a government lab where people performed crazy experiments on him. So he couldn't possibly understand the burden his son carried day by day.

Michael tensed suddenly and turned his ear to the house, listening. Mal listened too, but didn't hear anything.

"What is it?" Mal asked.

"Nothing," Michael said, so softly the words almost didn't come out. "I shouldn't be eavesdropping."

*~*


	3. Part 2

PART 2

Cole knocked softly on the door to his mother's room and peeked inside. Inara sat at her vanity arranging her hair into an elaborate twist with glittering pins and barrettes, and she frowned when she saw him in the mirror.

"Are you here as a Guild representative?" she asked coolly, setting her styling tools aside and sitting up straight.

"Maybe in another five minutes," Cole said gently. "For now, I'll just be your son. How's your foot?"

"What?"

"Baba, said –"

"Right," Inara said congenially. "I just need to stay off it for a few hours and get some rest. I'll be fine by this evening. How do you like field work?"

She accepted Cole's hand as she moved from the vanity chair to her red couch, and she propped her injured foot on a pillow.

"I miss my world," Cole said honestly. He loved being on his ship with Genny and he loved being able to help Zoë with her work and he loved seeing the Companions he helped face-to-face, but it didn't stop him from missing his world. They circled back to Sihnon every few weeks to check in with the Guild and take on a new batch of work, but it wasn't enough for Cole. He got homesick all the time. He liked talking to Mama about Sihnon, because she'd grown up there and it was something they could share, even if they couldn't walk the streets together.

They made small talk for a few minutes until the white elephant in the room became too obvious to ignore. Inara pressed her lips together in frustration and Cole stopped talking.

"I can't believe they sent you," she said bitterly.

Recognizing the transition to business, Cole stood and closed the door for privacy.

"The Guild isn't reputed as a family business," he said apologetically. "They expect we can maintain professional distance."

Inara took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap, sitting as properly as she could with her foot elevated. The low arm on the couch didn't offer her much support. "I'm sure we can."

Cole clasped his hands behind his back and then decided that was too imposing a posture, and he sat down on the couch by his mother's feet. Hers was an unusual case and Genny had warned him not to take it. "I saw the file was marked for transition, and I was surprised. You haven't been active since before I was born."

"I suppose you know my reasons, since you've seen my record," she said evenly. "Cole, I –"

"Wait," Cole said, holding up a hand to stop her. "Before you say anything, I didn't open the file. It's unusual to delay transition and … It's not that I'm trying to draw this out, but I know there are certain things a mother doesn't share with her son."

He could see the relief on her face already, but she masked it quickly. Her chin dropped and her voice quivered as she whispered, "Professional distance."

"I wanted your permission before I took the liberty," he said. "If you ask me to, I'll get the file right now, but if you prefer, I can take you back to Sihnon and a representative there …"

Cole trailed off as his mother's face went suddenly white. She cringed and contracted her body, her hand hovering over her stomach, then pressing over her heart.

"Mama?" he called in alarm, jumping up quickly and placing a hand on her shoulder. He cradled her chin and searched her face, but in a moment, the pain passed and she smiled disarmingly. He wedged next to her on the couch, checking her over even though he wasn't a doctor and had no idea what he'd just witnessed.

"You're not lying here because you turned your ankle, are you?"

Inara shook her head and rested weakly against him. "The chip – it keeps malfunctioning …. The pain is becoming more frequent."

Cole's eyes went wide, realizing the solution wasn't as simple as calling for a doctor. Still he was concerned. "There shouldn't be pain at all. Ta ma de, Mama, you should have called when this started. You need a Guild physician –"

"Simon knows about it."

Cole reeled again at the breech in confidence. Even among the Guild, the members pretended these medical implants didn't exist. "He's not here now, is he? And why would you tell him?"

Inara waved him off but then grabbed his hand and squeezed as another wave of pain hit. When she spoke, her voice was choked. "I got authorization to tell him, because … I nearly died having you."

Tears welled in his Mama's eyes and she looked at him mournfully, cradling his cheek. "I didn't want to leave you without a mother. It was an accident – getting pregnant with Michael. I was so reckless. And then the third time …"

Inara covered her mouth and sobbed at the remembrance of her last pregnancy. Cole had never heard her bring it up. He was just a kid when his Mama had been abducted and assaulted, and when Sky died, he'd started remembering bits and pieces in nightmares. Baba explained some of it, and it was the reason he'd chosen to work in the branch of the Guild he had. He'd always assumed his Mama had terminated the pregnancy, because the child wasn't his father's. Inara had so much pain wrapped in that memory.

"Shh. You don't have to say," Cole soothed, taking her into a hug before she revealed so much that it wouldn't make a difference if he opened her file or not. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she clung to him as he rocked them gently.

"I guess professional distance was never really an option between us," he said lightly, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing her face. "I'll take you to Sihnon."

"Do they have to take it?" she asked apprehensively, trembling with the effort to regain composure. "Can't they fix it?"

Cole shook his head. He knew more about the bureaucratic logistics of transition than the medical aspect. "If it is the chip, then removing it will solve the problem. The pain you feel is not part of transition, Mama. Trust me. I've transitioned a dozen Companions. You have nothing to worry about besides a few more gray hairs and a litany of paperwork."

"Ask them to fix it," she begged. "Please."

"Mama, you have to grow old eventually," Cole said consolingly. Many companions feared transition, but most maintained some level of grace and dignity when he was with them. Perhaps it was a matter of professional distance. Perhaps they did go home and cry alone. Many of them didn't have anyone to share the burden with. Cole rubbed his Mama's back, careful not to snag any of the beads on her dress.

"I don't want to leave you," she whispered, squeezing him tighter.

Cole didn't understand the level of apprehension, but unless she asked directly, he wasn't taking on this case. "Come to Sihnon. The Guild physician will know what to do."

"Your father will want to come," she said. "There's no way I can stop him."

"That's perfectly fine," Cole soothed. "Since I can vouch for him and for the validity of your marriage, I can also authorize you to tell him what you know and prepare him for the transition."

Inara pulled away from Cole and looked at him with wide doe-eyes. "Really?"

Cole nodded, not realizing that she didn't know. But then, Guild law on relationships was complicated. "There is a document you both need to sign, but yes. Any marriage exceeding five years –"

Inara jumped suddenly to her feet, knocking Cole as she went. "Mal!"

Her knee buckled as she stepped on her injured foot, and she fell to the floor. Then her face went pale again and her body contracted.

"He's outside, Mama," Cole said, catching her gently. He tried to help her and get her back to the bed, but she was using him as a crutch, clinging to her side, and stumbling toward the door.

"Mal!" she shouted again.

"Zoë!" Cole hollered.

Zoë came in almost immediately and cried out in surprise.

"Get Baba," Cole ordered. He pulled Inara to his chest, trying to figure out how to lift her as she struggled. Zoë didn't run outside, she just went to the window and opened it up.

"Baba!" she yelled. "Mama 'Nara wants you."

"I'm making lunch!" came the muffled reply.

"Mal!" Inara screeched as Cole coaxed her back to the bed and forced her to lie down.

"Sit still. He's coming, Mama," Cole said, brushing aside the hair that had fallen out of her elaborate maze of barrettes. She closed her eyes and held his hand, all the while murmuring fearfully about leaving him without a mother.

*~*

Mal's heart thundered as he dashed up the stairs to his bedroom. Inara rarely yelled across the house for him. The only time he ever heard her screaming like that was when she had nightmares about that time she was abducted. Cole had her pretty well-calmed by the time he got there, but her face was pale and splotchy and her hair was a mess, telling him that something had hit her pretty hard.

She stood when she saw him, but Cole had a firm hand on her arm making sure she didn't keel over. Mal rushed to her, embracing her, and lifting her feet off the ground just enough so she didn't need to balance herself, and only had to rest safely on him.

"'Nara," he whispered in her ear, letting her cry her tears.

"I have to tell you –" she broke off and buried her face against his neck. Both Cole and Zoë were looking at him like frightened babes. He gave each an encouraging nod, and then motioned them out of the room, making sure Zoë closed the door behind her.

"'Nara?" he said again, this time prompting an explanation with his tone.

"I don't want to die," she murmured.

"No one's going to die. Shh. You're scaring the kids," he whispered soothingly, kissing the top of her head. He knew the assurance meant squat, but she wasn't explaining, so he didn't know what to do. He set her on her feet and wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs.

"I have to tell you something," she said, but then lost her strength and cried on his shoulder again. This wasn't the first time she'd broken into tears and said she was dying and Mal was getting frustrated by it. Something snapped after she'd talked to the Guild, and he'd told her more than once to forget about the money she'd stashed. No gun shop was worth this.

"You ain't dying in the next ten hours," he said, and then paused to see if she'd contradict him. He was glad when she nodded and calmed a little. "So why don't you put on your fancy shoes, and we'll have this party, I'll give you your birthday present, and then when we're orbiting five miles above the planet and staring out at the stars, you can tell me everything."

"Orbiting?" she repeated, her eyes suddenly alert with intrigue.

Mal bit his lip, trying to cover the fact that he'd spoiled his great surprise. "We have two kids with space ships parked in the port. I'm sure we can talk someone into a once-around."

*~*

The adrenaline was still surging through Cole as he went downstairs with Zoë. They both had burning questions, but neither one had answers. It didn't help that he wasn't at liberty to even hint about what he knew. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and his heart was racing. His mind spun with guilt, wondering if he'd left so many other companions in such emotional turmoil and they'd managed to hide it from him. He was glad Genny had wrestled his mother's file out of his hands and told him not to open it.

When they got to the kitchen, Zoë went straight for the hard liquor, and Cole leaned against the counter, trying to get a handle on the moment.

"Genny's here," Zoë said, motioning out the window.

Cole glanced out the window and saw his wife coming into the yard, and with hardly a thought, he ran to her. Without a word, he stepped into her arms, and embraced her, using her strength to cut away at the panic he'd felt. Tenderly, she kissed his lips and leaned her forehead against his. She knew something was wrong, and if she knew it was about his Mama, she had the grace not to say 'I told you so.'

"You were right," he told her.

He wanted to hold her until his heart rate returned to normal, but was interrupted by Zoë's firm 'ahem.' Intruding on their personal space, she handed Cole a drink and quipped, "I know you two have been apart for almost forty minutes and I'm sure it's been torture, but the rest of us want to say hello too."

Genny laughed and Cole took a step back. Michael came quietly and stood next to Cole's shoulder, giving him an encouraging bump. The way Michael read Mama, Cole figured he'd heard everything.

*~*


	4. Part 3

PART 3

The party was in full swing by five o'clock and Michael was pretty sure the police would come eventually and shut them down for noise violations if nothing else. Not wanting to leave his crew to be mauled by the masses, Michael was taking them around, introducing them to what guests he did recognize – which wasn't many. He'd never made friends with the neighbors when he lived here. Michael wasn't a fan of crowds, but given that most everyone here was jovial and half-drunk, he was managing okay. He wouldn't be able to talk at all if Courtney weren't standing next to him.

Courtney had sparkly brown eyes and soft, curly hair that fell to her shoulders. Although she never wore makeup around the ship, she did tonight. Her outfit was simple, but classy, and the modesty of the cut only made her look sexier. Even Cole did a double take when he saw her and gave Michael a nod of approval.

Michael smiled and waved, steering his crew over to meet his siblings, not even sure why he was nervous – except for their great tendencies to embarrass him in public. Cole and Zoë were standing by the fire pit, arguing over whether it was too early to start the bonfire and roast marshmallows. When they asked, Michael rendered the judgment that until the crowd thinned, they could not in good conscious start a fire of any respectable size. Michael made a quick round of introductions, then bounced on his feet, looking for an excuse to move on, but with Cole and Courtney both standing near him, the soother effect compounded, and everything felt quiet and peaceful.

"This can't be your sister," Berke said graciously, taking Zoë's hand and kissing her fingers by way of greeting.

"Wait until he introduces you to the Aunts and Uncles," Cole quipped. "We've redefined the term 'blended family.'"

"How do you do?" Zoë said politely.

Michael looked quizzically at Zoë, surprised by her formal tone. She and Berke were staring at each other, neither quite sure if they'd encountered a former friend or foe.

"I know you from –"

"That restaurant on Perth," Zoë finished quickly. She touched the scars on her neck and shifted uncomfortably. "It was crowded and they sat us at the same table."

It was a lie, but a practiced one and Berke did not contest.

"Of course," he said stiffly. "That must be it."

Zoë tapped her neck again and Cole shot her a look.

"Zo –"

"Excuse me, I have to … sit," she said. Cole excused them courteously, and he guided Zoë away, holding her steady with a hand on her elbow. Michael watched the whole thing unfold speechlessly, feeling powerless.

"She's been ill," Michael finally said and Courtney touched his arm.

*~*

Cole took Zoë in the house and led her to the dining room to sit down. She'd been getting tenser over the last half hour, but he'd assumed it was because they were arguing over building a fire. Zoë kept twitching and pressing her fingers against her neck, like the old injury was flaring up and Cole hadn't been around long enough to know if this was normal. He knew she'd been dialing back the meds so she could drink tonight, but given the way she'd reacted to Berke, Cole worried.

"He knew you, and don't feed me that crap about Perth," Cole said sharply. The hardest part about catching up on Zoë's campaign was the fact that she kept all her contact information in her head.

She nodded, shivered, and closed her eyes, not making a sound. Her face was smudged with dirt and soot from the fire pit, and he started to think that she'd been arguing in favor of the fire because she was cold. He got a blanket from the basket by the door (Mama always kept them there for when she was sitting on the swing at night) and then he wet a wash rag and dabbed at Zoë's face. She looked a little pale, which only accentuated the red scars on her skin.

"Can I get you anything?" Cole offered gently.

Zoë shook her head again and hugged the blanket more tightly across her shoulders. Cole paced around the dining table and looked out the back door, trying to see where Uncle Simon had got off to. He saw Michael, still taking the crew around.

"Is Berke connected to the men that hurt you?" Cole asked quietly.

When Zoë shook her head, no, Cole breathed a prayer of gratitude. It seemed her current state was a medical one, not an emotional one.

"No," Zoë whispered hoarsely. "Just surprised to see him here."

"When you spend your days handling secrets, it's strange to encounter someone in their real life," Cole empathized. It was one of the most frustrating parts of his work for the Guild – sharing delicate secrets with a person and then pretending he didn't know them twenty minutes later. "What's his secret?"

"It's his," she answered curtly. He hated when she did that, but even though they were working together, she refused to share half her knowledge.

"Is Michael safe with him?" Cole checked. With the kinds of secrets Zoë kept, Michael was always their first concern.

"I have no doubt," she said, then winced, biting her knuckle to keep in a cry.

"Are your pain meds down here or in my –your –our room?" Cole asked her, wondering if he should bypass the meds and go straight for the doctor. Zoë had never lived in this house, but when she'd moved back here to recuperate, Cole's room had essentially been converted into her recovery ward, and he wasn't sure if there was a medicinal refrigerator was among the equipment.

"Kitchen. Uncle Simon said I couldn't have any more until after six," Zoë said weakly, rocking herself and swallowing the pain.

"It's 5:58. He'll understand."

*~*

Michael took Courtney's hand off his arm, and kept walking. He felt stronger when she touched him, but if he found strength to speak his mind at the moment, he'd be demanding that Berke explain what had just happened, and he didn't think that would be appropriate in this setting. Both Berke and Zoë had seemed more surprised than anything else. Shaking off the cold sense and moving on, Michael continued his tour of the yard and found Uncle Jayne handing out kabobs.

"This is my Uncle Jayne," he told the others. "He's the source of at least half my guns."

"Hey, runt," Jayne greeted, punching Michael hard on the shoulder. "I want my cannon back."

"What are you going to use it for?" Michael complained and Uncle Jayne gave him a playfully devious look. Michael hadn't pulled out the cannon yet, but just the fact that he possessed it had earned him quite a rep.

"That is seven feet of truly remarkable firepower," Jarvis commented. It was the first thing he'd said to anyone besides hello. "They don't even manufacture them anymore, they've been banned on so many worlds."

Jayne grinned evilly and Michael knew it was a threat that he'd be royally embarrassed in the next five minutes if he didn't return the thing. The rescue op for Vera had left him hog-tied, and while it was hilarious to tell the story, it was not something he wanted to relive – ever.

"I'll pay you," Michael said quickly and pleadingly. "Just …" He took a breath and started again. "Uncle Jayne, this is Berke, Jarvis, and Courtney."

"That cannon was yours?" Jarvis asked and Uncle Jayne nodded. "Can I ask you something …"

Michael was glad when the two of them went off to talk more about guns and less about hog-tying him. Though, knowing Jarvis, Michael would sleep with one eye open for awhile.

*~*

River's baby girl was five months old and squirming like a mad child in Inara's arms. Baby Serry wanted to sit up on her own, and as long as Inara kept a firm hand on her back, she'd stay upright. The little girl was incredibly amused by the way Inara's beaded blouse felt and the way her jewelry captured the light of the setting sun. She had chocolate brown eyes, mocha-colored skin, and the same nappy curls that Inara had spent most of Little Zoë's childhood learning how to care for. Zoë had taken a shot at styling it earlier, but most of her personal hair products weren't suited for babies. At this age, it didn't matter too much. They'd put a bright red headband on her and declared her adorable, and after two hours, she'd finally stopped pulling the bow off and trying to eat it.

Inara couldn't believe how big Serry had gotten in such a short time. She was only two pounds when she was born, and had spent her first two months in an incubator. The fact that she even attempted to sit up on her own at this stage was remarkable. Inara was starting to wish she'd picked a different top, though, because if Serry succeeded in her mission to rip the beads from the fabric, she'd choke on them for sure. She lifted the baby over her head, kissed her nose, and then turned her facing out instead. Taking the change in stride, Serry immediately started yanking at her own boots.

Kaylee handed Serry a cloth napkin to fiddle with instead, then sighed and folded one arm to pillow her head as she lay down. They were sitting at a long picnic table, which no one had used for eating, but everyone had used to set down spent dishes. Kaylee looked ready to fall asleep on the narrow bench, and she snuggled close to Inara's thigh. River was dancing around the yard with Emily, but she kept checking in every ten minutes to make sure Serry was okay.

"She looks well," Inara said, smiling as River laughed at one of Emily's jokes.

Kaylee opened her eyes briefly. "I'm just glad she's on meds again."

River had stopped all her medication for the term of her pregnancy. It was difficult for Kaylee and Simon both, and had she not been caring after Zoë, Inara would've been there helping.

Kaylee chuckled to herself. "You shoulda seen her pregnant, though. When the baby started kicking, she waved her arms in the air and started screaming, "I'm under attack!" Scared Simon to death, but she was just playing."

Inara laughed too. Serry dropped the napkin she was playing with and reached for Kaylee's hair, nearly tipping over. Kaylee shifted so she was lying on her back, and then took Serry from Inara and laid her on her chest. Serry made a few sounds, but in the end, she snuggled up to Kaylee's neck and closed her eyes, ready to sleep.

"I hope she didn't mess with you too much," Inara said sympathetically, stroking Kaylee's hair.

"Once she got through detox, she kept her wits pretty well," Kaylee said reflectively. "We hoped she'd keep stable enough to try breast feeding when the baby came out, but things went straight to hell within day and we had to start the meds again. It's sad. She wanted it so much. I'm glad she got to do it at least once, though – hold her baby to her breast."

Inara nodded wistfully. She'd been in the hospital so long after Cole's birth, that she hadn't been able to breast feed, and she'd felt robbed. She was glad to get a second chance with Michael.

"Is she safe with the baby?" Inara asked, pulling the hood up on Serry's parka so her head wouldn't get cold.

"Always," Kaylee assured. "If she even gets a notion that something ain't right, she'll hand off the baby or put her down some place safe. She's real careful. Simon's had to make a few adjustments for the change in hormones or something, but what she's on is the same stuff she was on before the pregnancy, which really never stopped working for her. Honestly, I think that's the miracle cocktail that's gonna carry her through the rest of her life. She still has nightmares on occasion, but the hallucinations and blackouts have all but stopped."

Inara fingered her necklace absently, thinking more of her own condition than River's. "Do you think that miracle drug is what restored her enough to conceive in the first place?"

Kaylee sat up slowly with the baby and looked Inara squarely in the eye, sensing the uncertainty behind the words. "If you want to talk miracle medicines, you'll have to talk to Jamie."

Inara ducked her head, found a sociable mask, and changed the subject. "It's a shame he couldn't be here."

"He couldn't get away. He's just starting to get results on all those clinical trials and he's working like crazy," Kaylee said, her voice carrying a mixture of pride and disappointment. "He's on his third paper this month. I swear, he's brought in so much grant money he's practically running that lab. If they don't give him a degree soon, I think I'll just die."

Zoë's cancer and the impromptu reunion on Ariel last year had been such a turning point for Jamie. Since he'd finally stopped trying to undo Sky's death, Jamie had taken on a new mission to create a foundation for revealing all the research about diagnostic medicine and drug interactions Simon had gained from treating River all these years.

"He publishes under the name S. J. Tam," Kaylee said with a secretive smile. "That's his quiet way of given his dad first credit. Simon actually shed a tear when he saw it in the journal, but you didn't hear that from me."

Jamie certainly had his mother's heart, and in cheered Inara to know that he was finding peace again.

"Has he talked to Jayne since Ariel?"

"I don't know," Kaylee shrugged. "After the Osiris heist, Jayne called me to check up on him a couple times. Jamie hardly ever calls anymore. I haven't heard from him at all this month, but I thought maybe the group of us could wave him and mail him some stale cake or something."

"We could do that," Inara agreed. "Maybe sooner rather than later. You look ready to fall asleep."

"Oh, you know how newborns are," Kaylee said, patting Serry lightly on the back. With her boys and Kaylee's twins being so close in age, there was that period where Serenity was a nursery more than a cargo ship. No had one slept for a year and a half.

"I'm so glad she didn't have twins."

"At least you only had to go through one pregnancy," Inara teased.

"Sure you had two, but you don't have any stretch marks," Kaylee complained. "How is that even possible? And look at you! I've borrowed all your face creams for twenty years, and I've still aged more than you."

"I'll grow old eventually," Inara said, and immediately regretted it, for the emotion it stirred. With a charismatic smile she added, "But then I'll start wearing a veil. Will you be joining Genny on her vessel now that the baby is born?"

"Not sure about Genny's ship, but we're leaving the beach," Kaylee said. "The sand keeps mucking up the engine on my jumper."

"Paradise has its flaws, I suppose," Inara said, laughingly.

Kaylee sighed dreamily. "All those years on Serenity, I dreamed about lying on a beach under the warm sun, listening to ocean waves, and staring at the open sky. Now I dream about lying on my hammock next to a warm radiator, listening to the hum of the engine, and flying through that open sky I've been staring at."

They both looked up, but the sky wasn't yet dark enough to show the stars. The crescent moon was visible, and that was enough.

"I got a good lead on a job," Kaylee continued. "Someone I know from way back."

"Let me know if it pans out," Inara said, glad for another venue by which she could live vicariously.

"You'll be the first."

*~*

Heaving a sigh, Michael surveyed the crowd. Things were getting loud, and his hearing aid was having trouble filtering. He vaguely heard Berke talking, but couldn't make much sense of it.

"What?" he asked, turning to look at Berke so he could lip read.

"I got business here, Shorty," Berke said patiently. He was accustomed to repeating things for Michael. "I said find me your Pop so I can finish my business and start to party."

Michael froze a moment, and then turned his head, trying to sense what direction they should go. His father was near the house, but so were about fifty guests. They could get a better view standing on the porch.

"How come everyone in your family is taller than you?" Courtney teased as they wove through the crowd.

"I broke one too many bones as a child," Michael said, not bothering to mention that most of them had broken in a single fall.

"Don't worry," Mal said, springing up behind him and leaning on Michael's shoulder. "It's still in his genes. I'm sure your children will turn out fine."

Michael cringed and felt his skin go flush. He closed his eyes, trying to turn back time and prevent the awkward, embarrassing moment from occurring, but sadly, he didn't have those kinds of powers. Courtney bit her lip and looked away, but Berke chuckled at the both of them.

"Have you seen Mama?" Baba asked, apparently ignorant of the humiliation he'd just caused.

"She's talking to Aunt Kaylee," Michael answered, rubbing his head. It took him a moment to realize that that was read knowledge and he hadn't actually seen the ladies anywhere. He was starting to have trouble with words, but forced them anyway. "No. I haven't seen them."

"Good," Mal grinned, rubbing his palms together roguishly. "Is this the man with my space ship?"

"That would be me," Berke said, holding out his hand to shake with Baba.

"Oh, yeah. Berke, my father," Michael said, squinting through the pressure, wanting to hand off Berke quickly so he could get away from the crowd.

"Let's talk business and let these kids have fun," Baba said. Before he left, he took Courtney's hand and kissed it suavely. "Miss."

Michael stood still for a moment longer, waiting for the embarrassment to clear the area, and when he came to his senses, her realized that Courtney was standing next to him, clinging to his arm.

*~*


	5. Part 4

PART 4

There was no music, but Genny and Cole met in the middle of the yard as the first stars came out and danced as though there was. Genny loved that Cole danced with her, and that he learned how to lead, and that he took classes and taught her all kinds of crazy lifts. She was classically trained in ballet like Aunt River, so she was terrible at following, but Cole got this air about him when he led and if she relaxed into it, he'd spin her around until she had no idea where her feet were going, and she felt so amazingly free.

Tonight, they simply swayed. He knew the pregnancy was making her sick, and he'd been attentive without being obvious. The crowd had thinned significantly, the bonfire was built, and whenever Cole turned her toward the fire, the whole side of her body warmed up. He kept stalling their rotation, though, fixing his feet so he had a good view of his mom.

"She's alright," Genny said soothingly, without looking up.

Cole sighed and swayed them so she felt the kiss of fire glow again. "She looks better than this afternoon," he allowed. "She has me worried, is all. My insides are twisted and I want to run back to the ship and see what's in that file that she's so afraid for me to know."

"Stop being nosy," Genny chastised. "There's probably nothing to tell."

Cole hugged her a little tighter. "You didn't see her face."

Genny knew he was right, but there was nothing he could do without violating his mother's privacy. His hands were tied, and if he broke those bonds, she'd just tie them again to protect her mother-in-law. The only thing she could do was reassure him.

"Honey, my dad has been my doctor my whole life," she pointed out. "I know he's good at what he does. I trust him to be professional and discreet, but I am still very glad to have my own doctor now – you know – someone I don't have to look in the eye on a daily basis or attend family functions with. If I were to get bad news from the doctor, I'd tell my dad right away and get a second opinion, but for run of the mill stuff, it's nice to have some privacy."

"Yeah," Cole said distantly, then he shook off the fog. "Yeah. Companioning is a different kind of lifestyle."

"You took a few classes at the Academy," Genny pointed out. "How would you have felt if your mom were teaching you those things?"

Cole laughed at the thought and ducked his head. "You're right. Oh, I hope you're right."

"If she wanted you to know, she'd tell you," Genny assured. It was like their baby. It was good news, but Genny wasn't ready to share it yet – especially not in this setting. She hadn't planned it, and she'd wanted to see so much more of the Universe first. She felt guilty, because Cole was so happy. She wanted children … eventually. Now that Cole knew, she couldn't abort this pregnancy and once the rest of the family found out, there'd be no turning back. There was no turning back now. She felt trapped and confused and it churned her stomach worse than the morning sickness.

Cole's lips were warm and soft, pressing against her cheek and when she opened her eyes to look at him, she realized her face was wet. "Stupid hormones," she murmured, her voice shaking. Cole embraced her, strong and protective, keeping her face hidden from the crowd.

"Everyone's going to figure it out before we tell them," he laughed. She bit back an angry 'let them,' and she worried that Cole was catching on to her reticence. Asking him to keep this from the Guild and their crew was a small thing, but asking him to keep it from his family was killing him. He was frustrated because he could tell he wasn't reassuring her like she needed and she wished he'd stop trying long enough for her to sort through the mess of her own thoughts.

He cleared his throat and leaned his face close to her ear. "I know we agreed to raise the baby on Sihnon, but if you want to keep your space ship, we'll find a way. We make our own ways, remember."

Genny's breath caught in her throat and her knees went weak. It wasn't the most perfect thing he could have said, but it was damn close. He saw them so clearly as a family, living a dream, and it was hard not to step into that perfect future. She knew she couldn't stall him for much longer. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket – he always seemed to have one since he started working for the Guild – and dabbed her face gently.

"I'm not ready," she whispered. It took all the strength she had to ask him to keep quiet.

He nodded obligingly. "We can wait 'til your water breaks and we're on the way to the hospital to tell them for all I care."

Genny looked sharply at him, wondering if his accommodating behavior was liquor induced, but he didn't seem buzzed at all. "You told someone, didn't you?"

"Only one," he said slyly. As dismayed as she was, she was glad he admitted it openly and didn't look guilty about it.

"Who?" she demanded.

He spun her so that they were dancing front to back, and they circled slowly so she could see everyone. Then he whispered teasingly in her ear, "I'll never tell."

She smiled nervously at his tone. "Uncle Jayne?"

"Not telling," he sang playfully. He was making this a game, and somehow that made it easier for her.

"Your dad?"

"Not telling."

"Michael read it off you and you just confirmed it, right?"

Cole laughed devilishly. "The person I told has been sworn to secrecy. But if you want to tell someone, I'll tell you if they already know."

Genny looked around at her various family members, wondering who she would tell first, but the notion of telling at all made her quiver with fear. She was suddenly glad Cole wouldn't tell her, because otherwise, she'd be stuck with a white elephant in the room whenever she faced that person.

Feeling small and in need of protection, she sank against Cole and whispered again, "I'm not ready."

Cole kissed her temple lightly, in a way that said her fears were silly, but he accepted and loved her the same. It was amazing how much he could fit into a single kiss.

*~*

The night was getting colder and Mal had bid farewell to all the guests he didn't expect to crash on his floor, couches, or beds before morning. The family usually came rested and planned to stay up the whole night at gatherings like this, because they knew their time together was precious and limited. Coming in through the back door, Mal took a deep breath of the warm air inside and rubbed his palms together. He laughed when he saw Inara standing over the kitchen counter with a fork, eating a cake right out of the pan. He adored when she threw propriety out the window.

"I thought you didn't want cake," Mal teased, massaging her shoulders and enjoying the way she squirmed when his cold fingers touched her skin.

"I never said I didn't want cake. You said there wouldn't be cake," she pointed out.

"My invitations did specify. Thanks to that, I think we only got two or three."

"I've counted six, plus a stash of ice cream cone cup cakes," Inara said, motioning to the other counter tops. Mal had spent so much time tending the meat, he'd hardly noticed the food in here, but true enough, there were a half dozen cakes of various shapes, sizes, and colors spread across the counters, and from the look of it, Inara had sampled them all.

"Want some?" she asked, holding up the fork for him to eat.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, hooked his chin over her shoulder, and then took the fork so he could feed himself. It was a chocolate chess cake that had Emily's signature all over it. When Mal had started packing the garage a month ago, he'd found Emily's baby book, and given it to her. Sky had tucked the recipe for chess cake into the pages, and Emily started making one every few days ever since. When Jayne refused to buy any more ingredients, she took the last few slices to school and sold them to the other kids, so she could buy them herself. Mal didn't know if her persistence was due to the fact that she wouldn't be able to make the cake on a space ship or if she was remembering her momma and stuck in a rut. She always got teary when she mixed the ingredients, and Jayne told her he could taste the love.

The chess cake was too rich to eat more than a few bites, and Mal set the fork aside and held his wife, and they watched their family through the kitchen window. He could feel the wistful tension in Inara, and see the way her jaw moved like she was trying to keep from crying. After a few minutes, she surrendered to the safety of his embrace, her chin dropped, and a single tear fell.

"That's it," he said irritably. "No more birthdays for you on account of you get pensive and morbid." He went to the dining room and found her coat draped over a chair, and beckoned her over. "Plus, I'll never top this gift. Come on."

"Where are we going?" she asked as he helped her with her coat.

"Once around the world, like I promised," he said. Inara paused, looking out the back door, and he squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry. They'll all still be here when we get back."

She inhaled slowly and didn't move, so he took her hand and dragged her toward the front door. Going into the hall closet, he pulled out her walking shoes and a scarf, then dug out his coat as well.

"You're playing at being social, but you've been avoiding me all night and I can't stand it any longer," he said. "You got something you need off your chest, so we're gonna have a nice journey and leave the hardship on the road behind us."

He didn't mean to be so testy and brusque with her, but when something was wrong, he liked to fix it. They walked a few blocks in silence. She alternated from standing next to him and walking as two, to leaning on him and moving as one. Finally she said, "I have to go to Sihnon with Cole."

"Is this to get your money from the Guild? I told you we can do without."

"It's partly that," she said, closing her eyes and letting him guide her as she walked. "Also, there's a Guild physician I need to see. It's a routine decommissioning thing."

Mal knew this wasn't anywhere near the heart of the matter, but it was some part of the burden. "Is this … are you telling me because you don't want me to go?"

"No. No, I want very much for you to come with me."

Her eyes welled with tears and he had no idea what to do. He couldn't help her until she told him what she needed and there was more fear in her voice than he'd heard in a long while. He squeezed her hand encouragingly and kept them walking, hoping to outpace the apprehension that threatened to over take her. No matter what, he was there for her.

*~*

Michael was glad Courtney hadn't gone back to the ship with the others. It gave him hope that she was on the same wavelength as him. They'd been dancing around each other for weeks making eye contact and dropping innuendos, but tonight she'd taken his hand as he led her around and introduced her to everyone. It seemed like such a small thing, but his Mama always told him that the small, ritualistic markers were the most important for building the foundation of a lasting relationship.

As the crowd thinned, it became more difficult to hide from those who would embarrass him the most. After gorging themselves on marshmallows, he led Courtney to the front yard so they could sit on the swing and stare at the sky, but Aunt River was already there, rocking slowly with baby Serry in her arms.

"I wondered where you got off to," Michael said warmly. He'd seen her around, but hadn't gotten a chance to catch up with her yet. Being a reader herself, he always felt closer to her than anyone else. There was a oneness between her mind and her words that no one else had, and Michael had to concentrate or he'd forget to speak out loud.

River looked up and smiled warmly at them. "She likes the swing."

Michael came up the front steps and peeked at the baby, who was awake, but sleepy. "Courtney, this is Aunt River and the newest addition to our family, Serenity Sky. We call her Serry."

"Oh, she's so tiny," Courtney exclaimed softly. "May I hold her?"

"Of course," River said.

Courtney sat on the swing next to River and took the baby in her arms. Serry was an easy going and social baby, and was accustomed to being passed around. Michael had been reading her from the womb, and he didn't know if the baby had natural psychic ability or if she'd tapped into her mother's, because after she was born, she got harder to read. River said she couldn't judge, because she had the same bond with Serry that Michael had with his own Mama. Michael had never needed a hearing aid to hear his Mama's voice.

Courtney nuzzled and cooed, getting smiles and spit bubbles from the baby. It was a strange side of her to see, given the work they did on a day by day basis.

"How old is she?" Courtney asked.

"Five months," River said, wiping the drool from the baby's face. "She came three months premature, but we expected her to."

"Remember that heist we pulled on Osiris?" Michael spoke up. "The equipment saved her life."

"Huh," Courtney said, looking from him to the baby in amazement. "I've never met a family that plans a crime around a pregnancy. So are you from Michael's father's side or his mother's?"

River giggled sweetly. "Neither."

"It's an honorary title," Michael explained. "Baba has no siblings and Mama's brother lives on Sihnon. I'm not blood-related to most of the folks here. Aunt River is sister to Uncle Simon who's married to Aunt Kaylee, and they're Genny's parents, so Aunt River is Genny's aunt by blood. Cole married into the family so whatever my brother's father-in-law's sister is, that's how we're related."

"You'll have to explain that to me again when there's not a cute baby smiling at me," Courtney said, nuzzling Serry again.

Michael felt their peace and joy, and he sank contentedly onto the step and leaned sideways so that his head was resting against River's leg.

_Are the new meds making you sick?_ he asked telepathically. It was nice being able to have a private conversation with her in the company of others. Unlike his Mama, River could hear him and talk back. Also, she could say whatever she wanted and not embarrass him.

_It's just crowded back there. _River assured. _I see why you like this girl._

He didn't know if she'd picked up on the fact that Courtney was a soother, or if she recognized the simple truth that Courtney was an extraordinary woman. Come to think of it, he'd never spoken to Aunt River about soothers before, and he didn't know if she experienced it the same way he did.

_It's easy to talk to her. It's nice to feel normal_.

River touched his head sympathetically and massaged her fingers through his hair.

_Be careful,_ she warned and Michael cringed, feeling the heaviness of his secret.

_I know. _

_But don't be afraid to open your heart_.

Michael looked back at her again, confused by the contradiction, but trying to hide the emotion from his face.

_A broken heart will mend, but the secret cannot be unspoken_, River explained. _Don't be afraid to love her_.

Michael sighed bitterly, snuck a glance at Courtney and looked away before she could see something was wrong. _How can there be love with no trust. If I can't trust her to know I'm a reader –_

_Trust her to know, but don't speak it aloud_, River advised. _She will know the truth in her own way, and she will understand and protect you. Trust her with your heart, and she will protect that too. Don't be afraid._

Michael closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders, trying to absorb the paradox. Aunt River saw the world so simply and clearly, and in the rare cases where he could figure out what she was saying, she was always right.

"Babe, are you okay?" Courtney asked.

Michael sat up straight again and smiled at her, grateful that she'd noticed him, and he chuckled lightly. She'd called him 'babe.' She called everyone else on the ship 'honey,' 'sweetie,' 'darling,' or 'dumbass,' but she usually made a point of calling him 'Michael,' because Berke had them all calling him 'Shorty,' and she said if he didn't hear his own name once in awhile, he'd forget it. He could get used to 'babe,' though.

"Just thinking," he said softly.

Courtney looked at the baby who had fallen asleep in her arms, then back at Michael. "One step at a time."

Michael laughed out loud. "Not what I was thinking. Come on."

He jumped to his feet, and motioned for her to follow him inside. No more fear. No more dancing around each other. He certainly hoped Aunt River knew what she was talking about.

*~*

Inara could feel the twinge of discomfort building in her belly as they walked, and she knew she needed to sit down sooner rather than later. But when Mal took her into the space port and led her to the ship he'd requisitioned to fly her around the world, her heart nearly stopped. She'd never know for sure whether it was the pain in her body or the sight of the ship that made her faint into Mal's arms. Mal must have assumed the latter, because she woke up in the captain's chair on the bridge as he waved smelling salts under her nose, and he didn't look concerned at all.

Gazing lazily about the cockpit, she reveled in the sight of each console, clean and polished like new. Mal was right. Forget going around the world. Even if all they got to do was sit here for five minutes, he'd never top this gift.

"Feels like home," she said.

"Firefly Naught-five," he said with a smile, glad to see her awake again. "More tricks and less broken parts. The Captain and I go way back."

"War friend?" Inara asked.

"Before even that." He moved easily around the bridge, running a start-up sequence, looking comfortable like he had forgotten nothing in their years planet-side. "Do you want to fly her?"

Inara shifted in the Captain's chair, frustrated that the pain in her torso had not alleviated. She hoped it didn't take too long to subside and she refused to let it spoil the moment.

"No," she said. "It's my birthday. I think I'll sit in the Captain's chair."

Mal laughed at her and didn't question her motives. His hands moved swiftly and the take-off was surprisingly smooth. Inara wondered if the naught-five had superior inertial stabilizers to the naught-three, or if Serenity had just been that bad off toward the end. They crossed the last breath of atmo into the black and the stars welcomed them home. Mal set a high orbit, chasing the light, setting the pace so they could enjoy a second, slow sunset over the world.

"Mind if I join you over there?" Mal asked enticingly.

Inara shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I think I had a little too much cake for that."

"I wasn't planning to sit on ya," he quipped.

Inara laughed, then winced as the motion twisted her stomach. "I'm sorry. That was a lie."

Mal came quickly to her side and knelt next to her, his face covered with concern. Inara looked to the stars, trying to find a way to tell him all the things that had been scaring her to death recently – the things Cole had freed her to share since this afternoon, and that they'd promised to talk about when they were orbiting five miles above the planet. She loved this gift so much and she hated that she was tarnishing the memory.

"I keep feeling this sharp pain in my body," she confessed.

"Where does it start?"

Inara hovered her hand over her belly and closed her eyes, waiting for the intensity of the pain to pass. Then she felt Mal gently, but firmly, pressing the pads of his finger tips against her face, then her palm, and then making small circles on her chest, trying different pressure points until he found the right one. With a whimper of relief, she moaned, and sank deeper into her chair.

"This is a little trick my wife taught me once," he said. "Is it helping?"

Inara nodded and opened her eyes again, gazing past her husband and staring at the stars. If she'd known something this simple would help, she'd have told him sooner. But the pain wasn't even her greatest secret.

"There's a device implanted in my body," she said. Even though she was allowed to tell, it was a difficult secret to reveal, and she couldn't look at his face while she said it. She had to keep her focus outside. "Most Companions have them. I think it's malfunctioning and that's why I keep feeling this pain."

Mal kept moving his fingers nonchalantly, like she hadn't just betrayed his confidence. "Is it a tracking chip?"

"No, it's a medical device," she said. "It keeps me from aging, more or less. When the chip is removed, it's called transition, and the natural aging process is restored."

"That was Cole's message from the Guild for you that upset you so much," Mal checked.

She nodded and snuck a peek at him to see how he was reacting. He looked calm and collected and his hands still worked performing the acupressure. She hoped he wouldn't snap angrily.

"You have to go to Sihnon to get it taken out, and then you start to grow old."

He was starting to understand the source of her fear. So she told him the rest. "If they take it, I die."

Mal's hands froze and his eyes went wide. "No," he said firmly. "No, if that were the case, Cole wouldn't allow it. Why would the Guild sentence you to death?"

"They … it's … It's not them, it's me," she wept miserably. "I'm dying. I've been dying my whole life. That's why I joined the Guild and became a Companion. I have a childhood disease and the doctors said it would be a miracle if I saw my twentieth birthday. I didn't want to die. It was the only way."

She took his hands and bowed her head, begging his forgiveness. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, but his own hands were shaking badly.

"This chip has kept you alive?"

Inara nodded. The Guild had been pressing her to transition for years, and now with the chip malfunctioning, they had their excuse. Her selfishness – her foolishness – had nearly left her children without a mother, and now she was running out of options to hold on to her life. "When I went into labor with Cole, it deactivated. That's what went wrong. That's why I nearly … And then with Michael – Simon used some kind of frequency emitter to keep if from shutting down again. And now my baby can't hear."

The guilt overwhelmed her, and Inara sobbed. She cried so hard for Michael's lost hearing, and it was a cruel irony that she was the only one he could hear with perfect clarity. Inara felt she'd robbed Mal of so much.

"'Nara, don't blame yourself for that," Mal soothed. "The hearing thing is genetic from my side. Besides, Michael would rip his ears off if he could hear with 'em."

He stroked her hair soothingly, rubbed her arms, and held her hand, wanting so much to take her in his arms, but she was in too much pain to move.

"We'll figure this out," he assured her. "We'll go to Sihnon and ain't no one gonna touch you 'til we have a solution. I will take on the whole Guild before I let them take you from me."

He would. She knew he would. He was crazy enough that he just might find a way to win.

"Maybe we can talk to the doctors Tam about this disease thing," he continued. "It's been a long while since anyone tried to treat you for it, and there are medical breakthrough happening all the time. Jamie probably made ten of them today."

The hopelessness melted somewhat and for the millionth time Inara was grateful that she'd taken a chance and opened her heart to Mal. She didn't want to die before him.

Tugging his hand, she sat up in the chair, forcing herself to move through the pain.

"Can you sit with me?" she asked, not caring that she sounded desperate and weak.

He wiped the tears from her eyes, stood up, and shook out his legs.

"Hold on," he said, and ran off the bridge. She watched him, startled, and called after him, but he told her to sit tight and wait. He wasn't running out on her. When he returned, he had a small cupcake with a single lit candle, and he knelt in front of her.

"Make a wish."

Inara wiped her face, feeling joy fighting off her uncertainty. Even now, with all she'd said, Mal was trying to make this moment beautiful. She blew out the candle and he pressed his lips against hers. Wiping her tears away again, he lifted her up, and joined her in the chair, sitting her on his lap.

"What did you wish for?" he asked as they reclined and gazed at the stars. "Long life?"

"If I tell you, it won't come true."

Mal kissed her neck. "Did you wish to break orbit and run away to another world?"

Inara sighed dreamily, resting her forehead against his temple, letting her tears fall down his cheek. "And another and another until we've traveled the whole sky."

Mal groaned lustily, his heart yearning for the adventure. "Let's go then."

Inara looked back at him. "What?"

"I told you I'd never top this gift. This ship is yours," he said simply. "Happy Birthday."

*~*


	6. Part 5

PART 5

Mal lay on his side on the cool deck plates of Serenity II's bridge, propped on one elbow, spooned around Inara, and stroking the length of her torso. Surrounded by a nest of their shed clothing, bare skin exposed to the cool ship's air, he shivered as the sheen of sweat on his skin slowly dried. Inara closed her eyes and sighed as she rested contentedly against him, basking in his love.

"I should've started having birthdays ages ago," she said alluringly, wriggling her hips against his. Mal moaned pleasurably, but they were both spent. He couldn't decide if he was hot or cold, but he grabbed his coat and pulled it over them like a blanket.

"What shall we name her?" he asked

Inara smiled delightedly and looked around the bridge of the ship. "She can't really be mine. How did you do this?"

"I'm independently wealthy," Mal said seriously, but laughed when she pinched his chest. He unfolded his arm so she could use it as a pillow, and held her close, deciding it was time to tell her all the changes he'd planned for their lives. "I sold the house."

He'd worried about doing that without her knowing, but she didn't even seem surprised. Instead, she looked confused. "Our house doesn't have enough equity to buy a ship this nice."

"I'm not without investors who believe in my cause," Mal allowed. "Jayne sold his place too and Kaylee and Simon."

Inara sat up sharply and the coat fell away. "They all knew?"

It was hard to concentrate when she was naked, delighted, and staring down at him. Using his finger, Mal drew small, delicate circles around her naval and smiled mischievously. "So what do you say? Shall we return to port and pick up our crew?"

She looked around the ship, clearly imagining the life and sounds that would soon fill it, and the familiarity of home. Then she pressed him onto his back, straddled his hips, and kissed him deeply.

"Not just yet," she whispered in his ear, stretching until she'd prostrated her body over his. "I want you to make love to me again while no one's here to interrupt."

*~*

River had never given up the dream of having her own child. She'd dreamed through every permutation – boy, girl, twins, triplets, human, alien. She'd imagined their possible homes, planet-side and vessel-side. She'd imagined teaching them dance and art and science, and how they'd make cookies or rocket ships on Saturday afternoons; how they'd go on adventures; how she'd stand by their bedroom door at night and watch their daddy kiss their foreheads as he tucked them in. And then she'd spend the evening lying next to her husband, talking about the future, and dreaming of retiring. In her thousands of dreams, she'd never imagined being a single mother.

As she sat alone on the front porch swing, she looked at her baby, and wished as hard as she could for her dream to come true. Serenity Sky – her very name was memorial of miracles, love, songs, laughter, and dreams come true. And River had one more dream – that the past would be erased, and her baby's father would come home, and they would be a family. Her brain always got in the way of the dream, reminding her of how Daquan had left her and there was no way to undo his cruelty. He'd dropped her on her brother's doorstep and didn't even knock on the door to make sure help was there. But she could dream. Even now, River felt him sitting next to her, his body warming hers from the closeness, and they looked at their beautiful baby girl sleeping so peacefully. She could feel him coming. If she looked down the street, she could see him – she could see the light reflecting off his hair and catching the glistening tear of regret in his eyes. She could see him.

River blinked and sat straighter. She could see him. It wasn't a daydream. It wasn't a vision. He was there in the street, walking toward her. She could hear his footsteps and she started to worry. The front gate creaked as he entered the yard. The meds had been working so well up until now. Her baby was in her arms and she was terrified that she'd hand her baby to someone who wasn't there and her baby would fall. River took a deep breath and looked at Serry, then she looked up and watched Daquan approaching the house.

"Hello, River," he greeted casually, as if he hadn't left her to die when last they spoke. "It's good to see you."

"You're not here," River told him. Her voice was shaking, but she could not let go of the baby. "Can't be here."

"Is this her?" Daquan asked, pulling away the hood of the parka so he could see Serry's face. River tried not to jerk away from him. She needed to get help.

"No," River said, standing up and turning the baby away from him. "No. You're dead to us. Go away."

"You're not well," he said, placing a firm hand on her elbow. "Maybe I should take the baby."

"Go away," River said more insistently, nudging the front door open with her foot and searching for help. They had a plan for this. She'd practiced with Simon. She had to fight him.

"You're squeezing her too tight," Daquan said sharply, following River into the house. "Let me take her."

River looked at her baby. Was she squeezing to tight? No one was here to help her. She had to set Serry down some place safe. That was the plan for when this happened. The cradle was in the living room. She blinked away the tears in her eyes, trying to clear her vision so she could find her way.

"Simon," River called, no longer caring if she woke the baby. She set Serry down in the cradle and headed for the back door. "Simon!"

She looked back, but Daquan wasn't following her. He was standing next to the cradle looking at Serry. And then he picked her up.

"No!" River shrieked. "Put her down!"

Daquan rocked the baby gently and smiled at River. "She's beautiful."

"Put her down!" River screamed. She didn't know what to do anymore. "Put her down!"

"Don't get hysterical," Daquan said in a hushed voice, but the baby woke anyway and whimpered tiredly. Daquan rocked her. "Now look what you've done."

"No!" River cried. She couldn't fight him without hurting Serry. But she couldn't get help without letting her baby out of her sight. So she screamed.

"Nooooooo!!!!!"

*~*

Michael leaned against the wall of the upstairs hallway and Courtney leaned against the wall opposite him. Their fingers grazed occasionally, and he couldn't say for sure what they were talking about anymore. They did manage to keep talking though, wandering lazily over topics, making googly eyes at each other. He wanted to kiss her. He was transfixed by the way her lips moved and her eyes shone and he was ready to make his move. Gathering his courage, he pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to her.

That was when he heard River scream.

Alarmed, Michael forgot Courtney and dashed down the stairs. River was alone with the baby and he was the closest, and he sensed something was terribly wrong. He scanned the living room quickly, and saw River curled on the floor, writhing, and screeching, and ripping at her hair. He fell to his knees beside her, trying to assess what kind of fit she was having.

"Michael!" Courtney called, dashing down the stairs as well.

"Get the Doc!" Michael shouted. She went to the back door, but kept looking back at him uncertainly. "Simon! Call for Simon!"

"He took my baby," River moaned.

"Aunt River, there's no one here," Michael told her, caressing her face. He craned his neck to see if Serry was in her cradle. "Did you set Serry down? Where did you put her?"

"He took her!" River cried. "He came and he took her!"

His heart beating a mile a minute, Michael left River and circled the room looking for Serry. Maybe River had left her outside on the swing. Mixing swears and prayers, he dashed outside and froze in surprise. There was a stranger out front, holding the crying baby in his arms. The stranger saw him and started to run, but Michael had his gun drawn before the man reached the front gate. Recognizing the danger, the man slowed and turned his head, keeping his back to Michael.

"Hand over the child," Michael growled, his voice low and threatening.

"Are you crazy!" the man spat. "If you shoot me, she falls!"

He took another step toward the gate, but Michael shot the ground next to his feet making him jump. Serry wailed.

"Hand over the child," Michael repeated slowly.

The stranger turned. "Look at her. She's not fit to raise a baby!"

Michael held the man's gaze as he caught another flicker of movement. His backup had arrived more quickly than he'd anticipated. Genny came up from behind the stranger, grabbed his hair, and pressed her gun to the back of his head.

"Do as he says," she snarled, her voice iced with the promise of violence. "Hand over the child."

The man's eyes went wide, and he couldn't back away as Michael covered the distance between them. Michael kept his gun trained right between the man's eyes, and he took Serry with one arm, then stepped back again. The man was about to say something more, but Genny pistol-whipped him and knocked him out.

Holstering his gun, Michael turned his attention to Serry, who was hollering at the top of her lungs. He rocked and shushed the baby as Genny nudged at the unconscious kidnapper.

"Aren't you supposed to have special brain power to make him do stuff," Genny criticized.

Michael shrugged. "I couldn't be sure he wouldn't drop her. I don't get to practice the fine motor control much." He didn't mention it would have killed the man.

"Who is this anyway?"

"This is Daquan," Aunt Kaylee said, coming out of the shadows. "This is Serry's father."

Michael swayed on his feet, desperately trying to get the baby to calm, and he could hear Aunt River crying out.

"I should take the baby inside," Kaylee said holding out her arms, but Michael didn't want to let go of her.

"I'll take her."

"Sure, I'll just … stay here," Genny agreed, kicking at their prisoner. She turned to her mom. "Tie him up?"

Kaylee shrugged disinterestedly. "I left my fuzzy handcuffs at home."

*~*

Michael wheezed, fighting for breath as he carried baby Serry inside. The adrenaline still had his heart pumping, and the baby wouldn't stop crying. He'd never saved a child's life before; he'd never seen one so close to danger. He wasn't sure if his parents had just gotten used to it with him and his siblings, or if they felt this heart-stopping panic every time.

The house was buzzing with concerned family running back and forth, searching for anything they could do to help without getting in the way. Uncle Simon knelt on the floor next to Aunt River, red medical bag open, already administering a sedative. It was such a strange thing to experience, because River's mind went quiet, then the light left her eyes, and only a tiny piece of her soul was left, fighting for consciousness. Michael hated it, but sometimes, with Aunt River, there was no choice.

"He took her," River wept with the last remnant of energy. "I don't understand. Where did she go?"

"Hey, Aunt River. Serry's right here," Michael said softly, squatting in front of her, showing her the baby.

"Oh, thank God," River moaned. She tried to reach out, but couldn't move her arm anymore, so Michael took her hand and laid it on Serry's head. The baby calmed almost instantly, and reached for her mother, whimpering again, because her mother had no strength to take her.

"I saw him," River said, her voice soft and panicked. "I saw him pick her up and then she moved. I …"

"It was Daquan," Aunt Kaylee said.

River's eyes widened and she nodded fervently. "Yes. He seemed so real."

"He was real," Uncle Simon said, wrapping his arms around his sister. "What you saw – it wasn't a hallucination. It was real."

River cried and her head lolled against Simon's chest. "Real? He really came?"

"Yeah," Michael said, feeling the horror as she relived the moments in her mind.

"He tried to take her?"

"Yeah."

A wave of anger washed through River and her lips curled into a snarl. "I'll kill him."

Simon reached for his cane and motioned Uncle Jayne over to help him move River. "I want to get you to a bed."

River ignored him and turned to Serry, caressing her baby's face with shaky fingers. "Don't cry, baby. Mommy's got to go kill Daddy. Won't take but a minute."

Michael watched pitifully as the sedative took hold and the last little spark of life in her mind let go. Uncle Jayne caught her in his arms and carried her up the stairs. Michael's whole body shook and a lump of grief twisted in his chest. Sitting on the floor, he held the crying baby close, whispering the prayer his mother always said over him.

The heat of terror lifted when Courtney knelt next to him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He rested in her peace and in the safety she offered, and finally took a long breath of air.

"Are all your family gatherings like this?" she asked lightly. Unfortunately, this was not as atypical as he wished it were. It was just his first time being the one doing all the saving. He leaned his head against her shoulder and smiled.

"Well, no," he joked. "Usually, there's cake."

Courtney laughed at him, then tapped his shoulder and pointed to the kitchen. There was indeed cake.

*~*


	7. Part 6

PART 6

One thing Inara had to keep in mind until she resolved this medical thing was that while acupressure alleviated the pain, orgasm completely obliterated it. Her body still tingled with delight and the simple act of walking made her shiver with want. She couldn't believe that as of now, she officially lived in the sky again. It suddenly made sense why Mal had spent the last several weeks re-organizing the house and putting things into storage and selling off things they'd kept packed away for years.

They were still giggling like children when they landed the ship and came down the ramp. Mal kept pinching her playfully and running his hands under her blouse. It was things like that that helped her believe they would never truly grow old.

Mal went suddenly stiff and held up his hand. Inara froze too, seeing the figure sitting on a cargo crate at the edge of the docks. Inara wondered if the man needed help, but she could tell Mal was more wary that the stranger posed a threat to their new home. He closed the ramp quietly, locked the ship, and checked the lock twice.

Inara was glad to be wearing shoes she could run in if need be, but she opted for a diplomatic approach first. Keeping her distance, she circled around the figure so she'd be in view of his face but out of reach of his fist. He sat cross-legged on the crate, and his body was hunched. He wore a white collared shirt and a woven vest that was too light for the weather, and his hair was scraggly and unkempt. It wasn't until she came around that she noticed the bright orange flip-flops he wore.

"Jamie?" she asked incredulously.

Jamie lifted his chin and smiled tentatively. "Surprise."

Inara gasped in shock, but Mal rushed in gleefully, man-handling Jamie to his feet and giving him a giant bear hug. It was incredible to see, but Jamie was taller than Mal now.

"What are you doing, sittin' here all creepy-like?" Mal asked, touching Jamie's face and shoulders as if trying to make sure he was real.

"Long journey," Jamie said distantly. "I thought I should gather my wits before stepping into the madhouse."

"What a wonderful surprise," Inara encouraged, hugging him warmly. "I'm so glad you were able to come."

"Me too," he said, melting gratefully in her embrace, in desperate need of some unconditional love. "Sorry, I couldn't bring a cake."

Inara chuckled and kissed his cheek. "There's no shortage."

Jamie kept quiet as they walked back to the house, and Inara didn't force conversation. Jamie had never been a fan of social gatherings and he'd be bombarded soon enough. Mal carried his bag, and Inara kept her elbow linked in Jamie's so he wouldn't lose pace staring up at the sky. As they rounded the last bend approaching their house, there seemed surprisingly little noise emanating from the back yard, and the bonfire that she'd expected to be taller than the house by now wasn't even visible. Emily stood militantly by the front gate and she squeaked joyfully when she was Jamie.

"Jamie! Jamie! Jamie! Jamie!"

Running at full speed, she plowed right into Jamie's arms, and Jamie caught her easily, throwing her over his shoulder like Jayne had always done with the kids. Emily squealed with delight, saying Jamie's name over and over again, sitting on his shoulders and hugging his head.

"I knew you'd come!" she said, squeezing him tight. Then she hooked her legs around his neck and hung upside down from Jamie's shoulders like a human bib.

"I missed you too," he said, holding her arms so she wouldn't fall off him and hit her head.

"Did you have a good walk?" Emily asked, turning to Mal and Inara. She looked completely silly, and all the blood was rushing to her face, but she acted as if hanging upside down were a perfectly normal position in which to have a conversation.

"You can drop the pretense, little one," Mal said. "She knows about the space ship."

Emily's face immediately lit up and she flipped off of Jamie's shoulders, then held out her hand. Mal turned his face resolutely to the path ahead.

"I told you, I ain't paying you for keeping quiet," Mal said. "Silence is its own reward."

"Well, yeah, for you!" Emily complained. "You got laid."

Inara smothered a giggle and Jamie laughed out loud.

"Listen to you!" Jamie guffawed, ruffling her hair and tickling her sides. "You are not allowed to date until you're thirty. I forbid it."

"I want my five credits," she said seriously, trying to keep hold of Jamie's hands.

"I brought you Jamie," Mal cried dismissively.

Emily looked from Jamie to Mal and held out her hand again. She wanted her money.

"How about when we move onto the ship, no chores for a week," Mal offered.

"Two weeks."

"Nine days."

"Done," Emily said and they shook hands.

Inara was bursting with amusement.

With the business settled, Emily turned surely to the path ahead, and she squeezed in between Jamie and Inara, taking their hands as they walked. Inara had taken the role of Emily's mother since Sky died almost four years ago, and she'd worried about what might happen to Emily when she died too. But when they moved to the ship, Kaylee and River would be there to help, and Emily wouldn't be alone. Whether Inara survived transition or not, she knew Emily would be taken care of.

"Did you like it, Auntie 'Nara?" Emily asked meekly. "I helped weld the shield plating."

"You did a beautiful job," Inara said. "Did you also put the chocolate in the armory?"

Emily nodded bashfully and kicked the pebbles as they walked, smiling wistfully at the memory of her mother.

*~*

Simon had steeled himself, and he tended exclusively to River, doing his best to ignore everything else. He'd set her up in Little Zoë's room, because there was a good amount of medical equipment already there, and he'd hooked up the monitors, even though he wasn't worried about her heart rate spiking. His hands needed something to do. He should've been keeping a closer eye on her and not drinking so much. He'd sedated her almost mechanically, not even thinking that simply telling her the truth would've calmed her.

Baby Serry's cradle had been moved to this room, to keep her from the noise down stairs, but it was still so loud, Simon was convinced the floor was shaking. It had taken them weeks to get Serry on a schedule where she slept through the night, and it would probably be weeks again to undo tonight's disruption. She'd probably wake up again in about twenty minutes, wanting to be fed.

Deciding he needed coffee, Simon set a baby monitor in the room, and went downstairs. He glowered as the others carried Daquan inside and tossed him on the couch. Daquan was unconscious, and as a medic, Simon felt compelled to check him out, but if it were something that needed checking, someone would've called him. Simon went straight to the kitchen and set the coffee pot percolating. The others, who didn't have any requirement of sobriety at the moment, were medicating their adrenaline rushes with cake and alcohol. Simon leaned over and watched the coffee start to drip, letting the smell of the beans sooth him.

He jerked stiffly when he heard the front door open, instinctively anticipating trouble.

Mal's voice carried over the din, and Simon relaxed. "Looks like I missed all the excitement. But hey, I picked up a souvenir at the space port."

Curious, Simon peeked into the living room and his eyes went wide as his son walked through the front door.

"Jamie!" Kaylee exclaimed, running to embrace him. Simon ran too, as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Where did you come from?" Genny cried.

Breathless, Simon looked at his son, wondering at his disheveled appearance, like he'd gone to a formal event several days earlier and hadn't changed.

"I thought you couldn't get away," Simon said, reaching out and touching Jamie's face. Jamie had an aged black eye, and he flinched as Simon traced the wound.

"Disagreement with a co-author," Jamie said before Simon could ask. He retrieved his bag from Mal, pulled out a handheld, and gave it to Simon. "Speaking of which –"

Simon made a face.

"There's only two in this batch," Jamie promised.

"There's more to my life than proof-reading your papers," Simon said, shaking his head, though secretly, he loved it. He waited through the greetings, and when Jayne started recounting the most recent events, Simon returned to the kitchen to retrieve his coffee. He was surprised when Jamie broke away from the others and followed him. As much as Simon loved talking science with his son, he was still a bit frazzled by all that had happened, and he'd agitated his leg by running so quickly to greet Jamie. He leaned heavily on the countertop, watching the coffee drip into the pot, and smiled as Jamie got the cups and sugar for him.

"What were you disagreeing about so strongly it came to blows?" Simon asked him.

"Nothing that bears repeating," Jamie grunted dismissively, leaning his elbows on the counter as well, matching Simon's posture. "Dad, were Genny and I at risk for Tome's Dystaxia?"

Simon's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't meant to give Jamie that particular batch of notes.

"You were doing a lot of work on it just before we were born," Jamie continued uncertainly.

"I was," Simon allowed. He'd started researching the research at Inara's behest, but didn't have the resources to get very far. He'd always been more of a practicing physician than a researcher. Jamie was the opposite "But, no, you weren't at risk. Don't tell me you've found a cure."

Jamie shook his head. "I poked at it a little. I honed that diagnostic technique you were working on, and turned it into a letter for the journal. There are a few other ideas in there. I was hoping you could take a look at it."

"Maybe tomorrow," Simon said. The coffee was finished and he poured himself a cup quickly. He could hear a rustling on the baby monitor. "I should go upstairs."

"Finish your drink," Jamie said, confiscating Simon's cane from him and pulling over a chair. "I'll check on them."

*~*

River sat up in bed, even though her head was heavy. She crossed her legs to stabilize herself and waited patiently for the world to stop spinning. The room was quiet, lit only by a soft lamp, and noise floated up from downstairs. How long had she been out?

Serry lay safely in the cradle across the room, her swaddle half-kicked off, one arm raised and wrapped around her little head like a little ballerina. The peacefulness of the room enveloped them, holding them safely apart from River's shame. Were they here? Were they really safe? Were they still sitting on the swing outside fighting the nightmare? River didn't dare move, because she sensed that wherever Serry was, she was safe, and River couldn't risk disturbing that.

She'd failed to protect her child.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and River looked up. Simon would come soon. She would recognize Simon if he were real. He needed to rescue her from this place. Everything was shadows and cobwebs. A tall figure blocked the light from the hall, and River knew she wasn't safe from the dreams yet. She knew Jamie shouldn't be here.

"Oh, I haven't seen her since she came out of you," Jamie said excitedly, kneeling by the cradle and touching Serry's face. River wanted to cry for help, but she sensed Serry was safe. Even in a dream, Jamie was safe. He exclaimed over Serry's beauty, remarked on her untamable hair, and then he let her be, and sat on the bed next to River. Folding one leg so he could get close, he hugged River from behind, and she acknowledged his touch distantly. Through the haze of the drugs and dreams, it felt like he was touching someone else's skin.

"It's her father's hair," River said mechanically.

"And that ear crinkle," Jamie said. "She gets that from him too."

River looked a little closer. She'd never noticed the crinkle before, but Jamie was right – Daquan's ear turned the same way.

"He's right," River said as a mournful shudder shook her body. Jamie felt warm against her, like he was real. "I'm not fit to raise her."

"No he's not."

"I'm a bad mom," River insisted. "I can't even tell a real danger and an imagined one."

"You're still adjusting to the meds," Jamie said assuredly. "They work, you just have to get used to the fact that they do. I never realized that not hallucinating could be as disorienting as hallucinating given the right definition of normality."

A good mom wouldn't normally hallucinate. Whether River could control it or not, Serry was not safe. River's chest caved under the weight of her sorrow. "I'm a burden. A good mom doesn't need –"

"A village?" Jamie finished, then he squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. "Do you know how many mothers I had growing up? How many fathers and brothers and sisters? Serry's a lucky little girl. Hell, her daddy loves her so much, he chased you all the way out here."

"He left us to die," River whispered. "He's dead to us."

Jamie patted her hand and looked at her critically. "If that's really how you feel, there are a goodly number of people downstairs willing to make this fact. He didn't come to take Serry from you. He came to take you too, and he was a bit concerned (understandably) by your reaction. If there's a place for him at all in your life or Serry's, he wants it."

River squirmed against Jamie, no longer liking the way he held her and spoke to her. Setting her jaw, she gathered enough strength to move her hand, and she pushed him away. "You're not real."

"Shen me?"

"You're telling me my dream – that we could be a family. But we can't. He left us to die. He's dead to us."

Jamie backed away and River felt weak. Her baby stirred, then cried, but River couldn't move. Simon would come soon and tell her what was real.

"Shall I bring her to you?" Jamie asked.

River shook her head. "It isn't safe."

"Should I take her?" Jamie asked.

"You're not real."

Jamie pressed his palm to her forehead, checking for fever, and then he pushed her shoulder, laid her down, and told her to rest. Simon would come soon.

*~*

The dark-skinned man on Mal's couch was well-dressed, lean, and slowly regaining consciousness. The story was that Genny knocked him out, which Mal found hilarious. Mal had met Daquan Cooke more than once and he'd threatened the man more than once. He'd even shot the man once, which he maintained was an accident, and he'd stick by his story so long as Emily believed it. The only real accident was that Emily had been there to witness the vindictive bit of gunplay.

Mal rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily. The night had been going so well. Now everyone was tense and resting on the fence between slander and cruelty toward their uninvited guest. Were it not for Jamie's miraculous appearance, Simon would've shot Daquan by now, though Kaylee would have tried to stop him. Mal felt for little Serry, because he'd grown up without his dad around. Though his own momma kept quiet, the other hands at the ranch never had anything good to say about his dad. As much as he resented his dad for not being around, there was one story about him that Mal always treasured. There was a hold-up at the local liquor mart and his dad jumped in front of a bullet and saved the life of the clerk. He didn't get hurt – just grazed. It was long before Mal was even born, but it helped knowing his old man was a hero to someone. Mal was always looking for something good in Daquan, so he'd have a story for Serry when she was old enough to ask.

Finding a pen, Mal scribbled some numbers on the back of an envelope.

"What are you doing?" Inara asked him.

"Math." He folded the envelope and gave it to Inara. "Hand this to me when I ask for it."

Daquan was stirring. He needed to thin the crowd a bit, else he'd have no control over the situation. Raising his voice, he pulled his kids by the elbows and herded them to the back door.

"Y'all better eat that beef before it attracts the coyotes," he hollered. "Grab your drinks, but everyone under the age of thirty is going outside … except Inara. She can stay."

Mal winked at his wife and she blushed.

"Why do we have to go out?" Genny complained. "Why not take him outside and deal with him."

"Because I'm dealing with him and I don't want to be cold," Mal said firmly, frisking Genny quickly and taking her gun. "Out, Little Genny. You've done more than enough."

Genny grumbled but found her coat.

"Zoë, you too," Mal said, motioning his daughter, who was lingering by the stair. She looked a bit pale, but stood stoic and militant. "And Zo –"

Zoë looked pleadingly, and they argued a moment with their eyes, before she finally huffed in defeat, and groused, "Fine. I promise not to send spies."

Mal nodded, and turned to his boys. Cole made a face as he donned his coat, and looked at Genny.

"We promise not to organize a militia and attack the house with handmade weapons," Cole sighed.

Michael crossed his arms confrontationally and jutted his chin. "I'm not giving you my gun."

Mal squared his shoulders and pulled himself to his full height – six inches taller than Michael – daring his son to defy him again, but Courtney jumped between them quickly.

"I'll keep him occupied, sir," she promised, then smiled coyly at Michael. Michael blushed and ducked his head bashfully, which was enough for Mal. He bowed slightly to Courtney.

"Thank you, miss."

Once the kids were outside, Mal turned to look at his crew. There was a small burst of joy that came with the thought that as of a few moments ago, he'd dropped the adjective 'former' from that description. His crew had come back.

Simon was in the kitchen, chasing down pain pills with coffee and working the joint on his knee.

"Doc, do you want to check on your sister?" he said, nodding his head toward the stair. The only staircase was in the front hall adjacent to the living room, so Simon would have to pass Daquan to get to River, and Mal prefer that happen while Daquan was unconscious.

"Jamie is with her," Simon said dismissively.

"Best send him out with the others."

Simon pressed his lips together so tightly they disappeared and that vein on his forehead started throbbing. "Mal –"

"No one is laying a finger on that man," Mal said, pointing back to the living room. "Tonight, he is under my protection. We patch him up, let him say his words, and send him away."

Simon stood and stared Mal down, showing no hint of fear. "You're not my captain yet."

Mal couldn't criticize Simon's anger or defiance. He'd learned over the years that saying 'trust me' never worked with Simon, but any explanation, no matter how transparent, would suffice. "I've lived peaceably on this world for four years and I am not leaving a body my last day. Is that understood?"

Simon bowed his head, features smoldering. He was conflicted; he, too, wanted to find goodness in his niece's father.

Mal walked with Simon to the foot of the stairs, and then placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder. "Son, I'm sorry this happened here."

Simon took a deep breath, surveyed the room with stone cold eyes, and then went upstairs.

Mal turned to Kaylee next, wanting to gauge her. She was his best hope for finding the good in anyone, because she could spot a ray of sunshine even if she were blindfolded. Kaylee was perched on the arm of one of the chairs, and Mal always told her she'd break it off, but she never did.

"This is my fault," she murmured when he came next to her. "I told him about Serry."

"Mei mei, we have been trying to contact him for months," Mal pointed out. "Ain't your fault just 'cause you got through."

"I thought he'd step up to the plate, not pillage the field," Kaylee said. Mal hugged her lightly, and tried to rub the guilt off of her shoulders.

"I need you to clear your head or I'll have to raise the minimum age for staying in this house," he told her. It may be better for her outside with the others. They needed a positive influence. "I told you once and I'm not gonna tell you again. This ain't your doing."

"You just told me again," Kaylee chuckled.

"Well I'm not telling you a third time. You stand next to Jayne and keep him from …" Mal looked at Jayne who leaned against the front door, blocking escape, with a blade in his hand. "Jayne, look threatening. No violence."

Jayne grumbled disappointedly. "I thought we was gonna kill him."

"This is Serry's father. On account of that kinship, we're on defense only," Mal warned. "He came unarmed. He leaves whole."

*~*


	8. Part 7

PART 7

Daquan was slower in regaining consciousness than Mal had expected, but given that he didn't have a long criminal history, he was probably less accustomed to being knocked out in the course of his work. As a ship's cook, he was used to folks buddying up to him. Mal tried to be polite. He untied the man, offered him a hard drink, apologized for Genny pistol-whipping him, and asked for his side of the story.

"I didn't know what was going on with River," Daquan explained. "One day she snapped. She went from being perfectly fine (in her own wild and free way) to thrashing manically. She tried to kill me a couple different ways. I knew she had meds, but she'd stopped taking them. She told me once that if something ever happened to her, I should get her to her brother, so that's what I did."

The stairs creaked and they all turned to see whether it was Simon or River. Jamie came down, holding Serry in his arms.

"Serry's hungry," he said simply.

"Jamie, please go out back with the others," Mal said, motioning for Kaylee to take charge of the feeding the baby. They two of them went – Jamie to the back door and Kaylee to the kitchen.

"Wait!" Daquan cried, jumping to his feet and chasing them. Jayne blocked him easily and Daquan turned angrily to Mal.

"You can't keep me from my child."

"I'm keeping you from my children," Mal said simply.

"You don't want your children to watch you kill me," he growled accusingly.

"There's where you're misunderstanding," Mal said, putting a patronizing arm around Daquan's shoulder and leading him back to the main room. "See, I don't want my children to kill you. As much as I dislike you, I'm not paying to get blood stains out of this carpet."

"There's hard wood underneath," Jayne said helpfully, making a motion of pulling up the carpet and wrapping Daquan's body in it.

Daquan threw off Mal's arm disgustedly. "You never were funny."

"Were you ever good?" Mal returned.

Craning his neck, Daquan tried to get a glimpse as Kaylee took the baby outside as well. "I didn't know about the baby until … I didn't know. River always said she couldn't have kids."

Mal nodded. Nothing the man had said so far betrayed any ill-intentions, so he motioned Inara to give him the envelope, and he handed the paper to Daquan.

"What's this?"

"If you want a part in raising this baby, you can start by paying your half of the medical bills," Mal said simply.

To his credit, Daquan didn't even bat an eye at the six figures circled on the paper. "It cost you this much?"

"So far," Mal said evenly.

Daquan looked up arrogantly. "Who holds this debt? I'll cover it all."

Mal's jaw dropped. He hadn't expected any such response, and it gave him hope for Serry's future relationship with her father.

With a sigh, Daquan looked around Jayne toward the back door again. "What did you call her?"

"Serry," Inara said. "Serenity Sky."

"That's a silly name for a baby, but she's had it picked out for years," Daquan commented, then rubbed his face reminiscently. "Is she alright? River was shaking her … Is River alright?"

*~*

Simon didn't have anything to do in River's room. His sister was fighting the sedative he'd given her, but she was losing. He'd sat by her pillow long enough to soothe her to sleep, and then he started surveying the medical equipment in the room. They'd requisitioned it to care for Zoë, but his Infirmary on the new ship already had several comparable machines, so they conceivably had some inventory to sell. He leaned against the wall and sighed restfully. For the last several months, it had been just him, Kaylee, River, and Serry in their tiny little place on the beach. It seemed almost restful here, despite the events of the evening. There was space to spread out and get away from people. He'd had a short chat with Jamie about the sedative he'd given River, and now Serry was downstairs in the hands of her caring cousin, not forced on his exhausted wife. It was nice to share the responsibility and not have to think of everything himself.

He tensed as Daquan invaded his quiet refuge with River. Simon knew him by his smell. The man wore too much aftershave, and he was never clean-shaven. Simon busied himself, arranging the equipment in the room and fiddling with dials on a machine that wasn't plugged in.

"We got off on the wrong foot," Daquan opened diplomatically, and Simon shivered in revulsion.

"You tried to kidnap my niece," Simon said icily. "How would you put a positive spin on that?"

"Have you ever watched someone have a mental breakdown?" Daquan asked.

Simon looked at River, and forgave Daquan just a little. He managed to shoot Daquan a condescending look.

"I suppose you have," Daquan said evenly, circling the bed and getting closer to River. "But was she holding your child when it happened?"

Simon kept silent and started rooting through his medical bag. There was only so much he could do to busy himself. He noticed Jayne standing guard just outside the door.

"Will you excuse me, I'm trying to work," Simon said dismissively. River would have been fine if he hadn't shown up.

"The reason we never stayed together always came down to trust," Daquan confessed. He touched River's face endearingly and Simon's stomach churned. "She takes all these meds and she says she needs 'em, but she won't say why and I'm not supposed to ask."

Daquan looked into Simon's medical bag, but Simon snatched it away quickly. Nonplussed, Daquan continued. "You seem like a decent enough man. And you're a doctor. I can't imagine you'd facilitate this if it were a simple addiction. But then, I walk into this place and she's out there having the crazies, trying to keep hold of a baby, while all you drunkards are in the back eating bar-b-q."

His tone turned accusatory and Simon bristled. He'd beaten himself enough about leaving River alone, but truth be told, she would've been fine if Daquan hadn't picked up the baby. River was always safe with Serry. She'd laid the baby in her cradle and gone for help. Having the baby get kidnapped was not part of any scenario they'd prepared for. River could fight if she needed to, but when she couldn't trust her eyes, the best way for her to protect her child was to find someone whose eyes she did trust.

Simon hadn't realized how little River had told Daquan about her medical conditions, and since it made a difference in their past, present, and future relations, he figured there were certain things Daquan should know. "My sister has paranoid schizophrenia. It can be well-controlled with the proper medication."

"Is it c-contagious?" Daquan stammered. "To the baby, I mean."

"No," Simon said. "She has no genetic predisposition. River was held hostage by the Alliance for three years and they performed illegal and inhumane experiments on her. That is what caused the condition."

"Wo de ma," Daquan breathed, sitting heavily on the bed and pressing a hand to his heart. He looked at River, hopefully understanding something more of what he'd witnessed.

"I thought they were just stories she made up," he said.

Simon twitched jealously. He'd been trying for years to get River to talk about what they'd done to her at the Academy. "She spoke to you about what happened to her?"

"In her art – in the stories behind her paintings," Daquan explained. "I always found it horrific, but the more horrific the story, the more money she'd make on the painting. People feel that pain in her work. And they endure it, because she can weave in such a thread of hope. I dare say she's one of the most powerful artists of our generation."

Simon really had lost touch with River over the years since they'd left Serenity. Her medication had allowed her to be self-sufficient and live on her own. He knew she'd draw in her spare time, but he never realized she sold anything.

"You rescued her, didn't you?" Daquan said.

"I did."

River woke briefly, whispered Serry's name, and then fell asleep again. Daquan looked from River to Simon and stood up from the bed.

"There's this one painting that she never wanted to let go of – and you could buy moons for what people have offered. I brought it as a kind of peace offering." He handed the rolled canvas to Simon. It was abstract, but Simon felt a stirring in his heart just from looking at it. "I think it's her vision of you."

Simon smiled, but he knew it was more than him. There were hardly any recognizable shapes – just swirls of color and meaning. It was all of Serenity – the crew, the ones who lived there, who had been born there, and the ones who had died. Everyone had a thread of color in the painting. Since Daquan had left her, River had been saying there was something she needed to go back for, and Simon knew this was it.

Daquan smiled triumphantly at the emotion his gift was stirring, and Simon shut down. He could not be wooed or bought, because the man's actions spoke volumes. Placing the canvas safely on one of the tables, Simon turned toward Daquan, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Flattery and bribery will not make me forgive you," Simon said coldly. "You abandoned her on my doorstep, disappeared for ten months, and now you have the gall to show up unannounced, frighten my sister half to death, and run out the front door with her baby. You can't buy her back, no matter what Mal has led you to believe."

Daquan pulled himself to his full height and looked down the bridge of his nose at Simon. "I will ask her to come with me."

"And I will kill you if she asks me to," Simon threatened. "Get. Out."

*~*

Kaylee was glad to see the kids weren't scheming on anything major when she came out. They'd stoked the fire, building the blaze enough to fight the chilly night air and seemed content enough to grill Courtney about the relative quantities of gunplay at her family's gatherings. Not wanting to get the baby too close to the fire, Kaylee went to the picnic table in the middle of the yard, and sat on the table to give Serry her bottle. Simon often felt bad about leaving Kaylee to care for the baby when he was focused on River, but Kaylee adored her niece fiercely. She'd always wanted more kids of her own, and the only reason she'd never forced the issue was because there'd been plenty of kids on Serenity, and they didn't have money to feed any more.

Looking toward the fire, Kaylee noticed her daughter turning from the crowd, and she caught Genny's eye. Quietly, Genny broke away from the group and came to sit next to Kaylee on the table, leaning close, and making small talk about how it was colder here than by the fire. Serry finished her bottle and fell asleep, and Genny watched peacefully.

"Did you always want kids?" Genny asked softly, fingering the mittens on Serry's little hands.

"Pretty much," Kaylee said. "It took awhile to convince your dad. He had River to look after and … well, he still does."

Genny swallowed, like her throat hurt. "But he did want us, right? It wasn't a "surprise I'm pregnant" and he just went with it and didn't say no?"

"No," Kaylee said, feeling a twinge of guilt and concern that her daughter may have felt unwanted. Her concern may have been unfounded, but the maternal instinct was not known for reason. She chuckled to herself, wondering how she'd gone this long without telling Genny the story of her conception. "It took two years of very concentrated effort to get pregnant with you. We ended up with this home-made fertility treatment with Petri dishes and pipettes. After you were born, your dad made the Captain park the ship for three months so nothing would break that I'd have to fix."

Genny's eyes twinkled as she laughed, but then she got that conflicted look on her face again.

"Are you and Cole talking about kids?"

Genny took a deep breath and kept her eyes firmly on Serry. In the firelight, Kaylee could see the tears welling. "He wants to be a dad so much and I really want to give him that."

"But not yet," Kaylee finished. Genny blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't lift her head, because she was too ashamed to appear weak, but she laid her head on Kaylee's shoulder and cried quietly.

"Don't let him push you," Kaylee encouraged, adjusting Serry on her lap so she could put an arm around her daughter. "When you're ready, you'll know."

"How?" Genny asked thickly.

"I don't know," Kaylee laughed. She felt so much of her daughter's fear, she nearly started crying her own self. "For all our trying, when I found out I was pregnant with you, the first thing I did was run over to Inara and cry on her shoulder about not being ready. I think you have a better head on your shoulders than that, though."

Genny laughed a little and sniffled, reining in the fear that had overwhelmed her.

"Look at your Uncle Jayne," Kaylee said. "He waited so long to have kids, he's old enough to be Emily's grandpa, and do you remember how crazy he got, because he was so scared of what he'd gotten into. Everyone gets jitters. Whether you want 'em or not, you're never gonna be 'ready' for kids. The question is, do you want 'em? If no, you take measures. But if even the tiniest part of you thinks yes, then you take 'em as they come, and if they don't come as fast as you want, then you wind up with pipettes and Petri dishes making them come."

Genny wiped her face and inhaled. "You're trying to sound wise, but you're just making stuff up."

"I stand by every word I just said," Kaylee said confidently. "I don't remember most of 'em, but I stand by 'em."

Genny hugged her gratefully, and they both sat there for awhile. Every now and then, Kaylee would hear the splash of one of Genny's tears on Serry's parka. It worried her that Cole might push her so hard into something that she didn't want.

"Mom?" Genny said tentatively. Kaylee looked at her daughter and waited. Finally Genny shook her head, leaned on Kaylee's shoulder again, and whispered softly, "Never mind."

*~*

Simon closed the door behind Daquan as he left, but he wasn't sighing with relief yet. The only conceivable reason Mal was letting the man stay was so River would have a chance to talk to him. He knew Mal would not let Daquan near Serry again. Mal had nearly lost Little Zoë once for lack of blood kinship, and he'd make sure Serry wasn't threatened again. If Daquan really wanted a custody battle…

Simon's jaw quivered as fear and uncertainty washed over him. He went to the table and looked at River's picture of Serenity. It almost seemed as if the colors had been imbued with an emotional impression that transcended the medium of the art.

"Serry?" River murmured, opening her eyes and focusing on the empty cradle.

"Serry's safe," Simon told her. "She's downstairs."

River looked at him as he brushed the hair away from her face. It looked like the sedative has wearing off.

"I keep seeing things that can't be real," she said, clawing weakly at the roots of her hair. "I saw Daquan and then I saw Jamie."

Simon chuckled softly. Jamie had said River seemed a little dazed, but he didn't realize that River had processed Jamie's presence and dismissed him as a hallucination. "I could hardly believe my own eyes, but what you saw was real."

She cocked her head quizzically, checking to make sure he was serious, and then she pounded the pillow next to her face. "How can I distinguish a world that makes no sense?"

"What did Jamie tell you?" Simon asked.

"He said we could be a family."

"You and Daquan?" Simon asked, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth as he said the man's name. River nodded. Simon stiffened, trying to figure the best way to proceed. His sister needed the truth. "Daquan expressed a similar sentiment…"

"But you don't believe him," River said.

"I don't like him," Simon said honestly.

River looked at him sagely, weighing his opinion.

"He gave you something," she said finally.

"Oh," Simon said with a smile. He brought the painting over to the bed and showed River. "He said you did this."

River touched the painting sadly, then nestled closer to Simon and closed her eyes.

"He sells my pain," she confessed, her voice steady and smooth as though she were reporting the weather. "Draws it out of me like a leech sucking blood."

"Does he keep all the profit?"

"He thinks he does," River whispered, then grinned impishly at him. "I'm a very good thief."

"Good for you," Simon said, though he wasn't reassured. He looked at the picture, feeling the mixture of desperation, hope, trust, and strength. "What do you want to do?"

"Fly like a bird," she answered, and he smiled, knowing she meant it literally. He loved the way his sister saw the world, mixing fantasy and reality. It was something the Alliance could never take away from her.

"About Daquan, River?" Simon said, forcing the topic. "Do you want to talk to him or do you want me to send him away or …"

"He left us to die. He's dead to us," River said, almost mechanically. It was all she usually said to dismiss the topic, but now that Daquan was here, Simon needed a better answer.

"Do you want him in Serry's life?" he choked out with some difficulty.

River spoke calmly, like she always did when she was reading someone's intentions. She never seemed to judge people for having ill intentions toward her. "He doesn't want her in his. He wants me. If he hurts me, I draw the pain." River stopped, as if she were hearing her words for the first time, and she looked at Simon in confusion. "He isn't evil."

"Did he hurt you?" Simon asked, his heart crying out for vengeance. Had Daquan abandoned River in the hopes that the horror would yield a new, priceless piece of art? Could a man be that shallow? And had he done anything before that?!

"He left us to die."

"Before that, I mean," Simon said. "River –"

"You've always taken care of me," River said warmly, nuzzling her face against Simon.

"River –"

"Tell him to go," she said finally. "He's dead to us. We accept nothing that he offers."

Simon nodded shakily, and held his sister. He finally had the answer he wanted, but he didn't know if Daquan would accept River's message if it came through him. "Do you want to tell him?"

River shook her head. "If I see him, I will kill him. And his blood isn't worth it."

*~*


	9. Part 8

PART 8

Mal stood next to Simon as he delivered River's message to Daquan, and a small part of him broke inside as the man turned snidely and left without a fight. He loved Little River and Baby Serry like his own, and he hated that their family was starting out broken. He wished so much more for them. As soon as Daquan was out of sight, Simon turned on his heels and stalked out the back door. Mal followed, but he knew the other man needed to be alone for awhile. Simon went past the fire and the picnic table, and disappeared into the shadows at the edge of the creek. Mal could hear the angry thwack as Simon thrashed his cane against the marsh grass. The aura of perfection had lifted from the night, and Mal could see the cracks in everything.

Little Genny sat on the picnic table, leaning her head on her mother's shoulder. He'd seen the pain in her surfacing on and off the whole night, but it had been mostly off until now. Mal went to the fire where most of the others were standing, tapped Cole on the shoulder, and nodded his head toward Genny. He couldn't quite peg the look that came over Cole's face, but he didn't like it. Where Genny was carrying pain, Cole carried guilt as if he were the source of it. Cole took a deep breath and prepared dutifully to comfort his wife, but Mal took his arm and directed his son into the house for a heart-to-heart.

"Why is your wife crying?" Mal asked.

Cole ducked his head repentantly and Mal bristled, immediately protective of Genny.

"Cole?"

No response.

"Do you want me to start accusing you of unseemly things?"

"What? No," Cole breathed indignantly, his eyes flashing angrily and welling with tears. "No. I am a good husband."

Mal wasn't getting anywhere. They were still too much in the open. He pulled Cole through the dining room and into the laundry room, and Mal closed the door. Cole went immediately to the window and gazed helplessly out at Genny.

"What did you do?" Mal asked.

"I would never hurt her!" Cole cried, though his defensive tone spoke the contrary. Cole kicked the ground and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. "There's nothing I can do. She doesn't want anyone to know –"

"That she's pregnant," Mal finished and Cole's jaw dropped in fear and surprise. Mal sighed heavily. "Son, if there's one thing I have a gift for recognizing, it's that glow of a new life growing in a woman. The only person I've ever missed it on is Sky, so my track record is four out of five women, and if I'm right about Genny, then five out of six."

Cole's eyes darted around the room like he was trapped. He did not confirm Mal's suspicion, but he ducked his head shamefully.

"It's yours, right?" Mal checked. He didn't expect Genny to be unfaithful, but if she'd been attacked like Inara had, it would explain Cole's guilt.

But Cole nodded. He knew what had happened to his Mama, and he understood why Mal asked.

"You know, most people would think it's good news," Mal offered gently.

"It is," Cole agreed, his face twisting with confusion. "I'd shout it from the rooftop, if only she'd let me. But the more I look at her, the more I see she doesn't want it." Cole fell to his knees and covered his mouth, trying to contain himself, but still he sobbed. "She doesn't want it. What do I do, Baba?"

Cole looked up at him, brown eyes desperate and pleading for forgiveness, as though he'd committed a horrible atrocity. His only crime was that he loved his wife and his unborn child and he didn't know how to save one without losing the other.

Mal pulled his son to his feet, not willing to let him blubber. Cole was like his mother – fearing things that hadn't been decided yet. He looked his son in the eye, making sure his truths were heard.

"Stop weeping for your child like you've already lost it. Has she said she doesn't want it?"

Cole swallowed and shook his head.

"Have you asked her?"

"I can't," Cole cried wretchedly, pacing in a circle. "What if she –"

He choked, unable to finish speaking the fear. He kicked the wall angrily and brushed past Mal to the door, but he stopped when his hand hit the knob. He wasn't ready to leave.

"You have to ask her," Mal said calmly. "You have to know. You can't sit there and stew in your respective uncertainties; you need each other. Having babies is scary as hell. Whatever this 'look' is that you see in her, you have to flesh it out and know what you're dealing with. It might hurt like the devil, but you share that hurt with her and you love her through every moment of it."

Cole suddenly pulled a blade from his belt and chucked it across the room. Mal ducked instinctively, even though it wasn't directed at him, and he stared at the point where the blade had embedded itself in the wood of the window sill. Mal had never seen Cole so intense, and he hadn't realized that his son was armed. Cole paced bitterly and retrieved his blade from the wall, then he leaned against the window sill and picked at the splintered wood broodingly.

"Go ahead," Mal said sardonically, going to the door so his son could cool down alone. "The house was sold as is."

When he opened the door, he heard a retching sound. Looking across the dining room, he could see Genny in the kitchen, vomiting in the sink. Cole looked at her too, and his expression softened immediately. Wiping his face, he came tentatively to the door of the laundry room and Mal took the blade from his hand. Cole looked at his fingers, acknowledging Mal's touch, and then back to Genny. Then he crossed the room to tend to his wife.

*~*

Jayne followed Jamie as Jamie carried Emily inside. When he first arrived, Jamie had talked to his dad and then visited Serry and Emily had gotten a bit jealous. It was hard for her not being the baby anymore, because everyone asked about the baby first. Emily had been commanding Jamie's attention pretty steadily ever since. When she fell asleep, Jayne thought about taking his daughter home and putting her to bed, but he wasn't ready to leave yet, and after what had happened with Daquan, he wouldn't feel right leaving his daughter alone, no matter how safe it was. There were three beds and two couches at Mal's place, all first come, first served, and thirteen people would be squeezed into them come morning (if they all slept), because they'd all rather sleep like sardines than sleep on the floor. Jamie set Emily on the couch in the living room, since she was the only one short enough to stretch out on it. As Jamie took off Emily's shoes, Jayne found a blanket to lay over his daughter. Jamie spared him a glance, then slouched tiredly into the arm chair.

"That was a brave face you put on," Jayne said, leaning on the arms of the chair and getting himself into Jamie's face. He pushed down the collar of Jamie's shirt, catching a glimpse of the prison tattoo he'd expected. It was elaborate, starting at the base of the neck and there was a crude spade in the design, marking him as a thief. Expected or not, it still angered Jayne. Jamie couldn't have gotten out more than half a day ago, or Jayne would've heard. It took a boatload of courage for Jamie to show his face here and pretend nothing had happened.

"Did Hafeez find you?" Jayne asked, dragging the coffee table across the carpet and sitting on that so he could get closer to eye-level with Jamie.

Jamie nodded.

"He looked out for you?"

Jamie nodded again, but he still didn't look up.

"He didn't lay a wrong finger on you, did he?"

Jamie shook his head and Jayne was starting to lose hope for a verbal conversation.

"Longest week of your life, eh?" he joked and Jamie cringed. Jayne never had the right words for Jamie, and he glanced helplessly to the back door. "Won't you say a word to them?"

Jamie shook his head again, so Jayne resigned himself to sitting and waiting. It was unfair of him to bring this up now, but he'd been worried sick over Jamie and had to call in one of his highest markers to keep the boy safe.

"It was for Serry," Jamie said softly, pulling his knees to his chest. They'd planned the best time to pull the Osiris heist, but then something had changed with River and the baby, and they'd had to run in three weeks early. Serry was too frail to move. If the Feds made it to the beach house, anyone there would've been pinched, River would've been put in a bug house, and the baby would now be property of the Alliance. As the months passed, they thought they'd evaded the threat, but then, two weeks ago, something had stirred. Jamie took the hit for them all.

"Let them know what you did for her," Jayne implored. "They might throw you a ten-cake party."

"I don't want a party," Jamie said irritably. "I don't want their gratitude. I don't want to see their guilt and feel their pity, and I don't want Serry to even sense this debt."

"You don't want to be a hero?" Jayne asked. Jamie shook his head Jayne heaved in frustration. "I really don't get you at all."

That earned him a weak smile. "Thanks for what you did."

"It's not too hard to find a man like you falling into my circles," Jayne shrugged dismissively, even though getting a 'thank you' from Jamie was like winning the lottery. "It's a puzzle to me. You thank me for what I did because something in that brain of yours tells you I need to hear it, so how come you don't want no one thanking you? Don't you think you need to hear it? I didn't get hurt doing what I did. I didn't take a bullet, do time, or lose money. I called in a favor. You get pinched. You risk your life and your livelihood to save the rest of us idiots."

He waited and watched, but Jamie just sat there like all the lights in his brain had gone out. So Jayne stopped trying to convince him, and said simply, "Thanks for what you did."

If Jamie had his way, there would be no one else who knew to tell him, and Jayne thought it was important that he hear it. It still didn't seem like enough.

"You're dad's got a prison tat," Jayne offered.

"No he doesn't," Jamie said quickly, thinking Jayne was only saying it to cheer him up. It did boggle the mind, but it was a fact.

"He did have," Jayne insisted. "You know that long scar on his chest from when he got 'mugged' back in his school days."

It was before Jayne had met Simon, but for all the ways he tried to spring his sister and failed, he'd spent more than a few nights in the tank. The story didn't seem to be doing much for Jamie, so Jayne fell back on the only thing that ever seemed to work – taking Jamie to his dad.

"Come on," Jayne said, tugging Jamie's elbow.

"I shouldn't have come."

"Walk or I'll carry you," Jayne said, but still Jamie didn't get up. Swiftly, Jayne yanked Jamie's arm and threw him over one shoulder, but Jamie wriggled away easily. He was too big to be man-handled anymore, but at least Jayne had gotten the boy on his feet. Keeping his arm around Jamie's shoulders, they walked to the back porch. Jamie's steps became more and more tentative until he froze, and turned himself away from the crowd. It was far enough. Jayne sat Jamie down on the steps, caught Simon's eye, and motioned him over.

"Is he bothering you, son?" Simon asked, maintaining a light tone even though he recognized the heaviness of the spirit.

"No, we're just catching up," Jamie said glibly, with more confidence and strength than Jayne expected. Simon stepped around them to go inside, but Jayne cleared his throat and shot Simon a look.

"Gin?" Simon offered.

"That sounds good," Jamie said.

Jayne jumped to his feet and pushed Simon onto the step next to Jamie. "Sit down, gimp. I'll get it."

As Jayne turned to go, Jamie grabbed his hand. "Uncle Jayne."

It was the first time he'd said 'uncle' in four years. They looked at each other and and Jayne stared, slack-jawed. Jamie had never looked to him for rescue from anything. Both of them were dumbstruck, at a loss for any appropriate word to follow the gesture. Finally, Jamie let go of Jayne's hand and looked at his feet.

"Lime, no ice."

*~*

Jayne had jerked Simon so hard that something in his knee snapped, but he bit back any complaints. The uncomfortable feeling passed quickly, since he was sitting, and he knew Jayne only set him here for Jamie. Simon smiled at his son as the awkward silence hovered between them. He knew there was something serious that needed addressing, but didn't know where to start. As hunched as Jamie was, Simon still found himself looking up to see his face.

"So is this some experimental growth hormone?" he said sarcastically, reaching up and ruffling Jamie's hair. "How is it you keep getting taller?"

Jamie shrugged, accepting the light topic. "You know, Grampa Frye is 6'8", and he grew his last twelve inches after he started college."

Simon pondered the statement. His own father was taller than him. "6'8", huh? And you're now?"

Jamie held up four fingers.

"Huh," Simon said, bobbing his head, wondering if there were any way to transition this conversation to get at the reason Jayne had pulled them together.

"Emily has started a pool," Jamie said with a smile. "I have 50 platinum saying I'll break seven feet before I turn 23."

"Seven?" Simon repeated, choking a little. He'd spawned a gorram giant!

Jamie chuckled. "I'm not looking to collect on that either, but the girl needs a college fund. She's an evil genius, but she won't show it to anyone without cash up front."

Simon went quiet. He reached out to touch Jamie's shoulder, but Jamie swatted at a bug, and they both retracted, letting the silence come between them again.

"Found a treatment that may help your leg," Jamie mumbled, filling the air with small talk.

"If you mean that article you sent last week, I didn't much care for the side effects."

Jamie huffed, and finally relaxed a little. "Yeah. I guess given the choice between chronic leg pain and decreased libido, you'd choose sex with Mom any day."

"Damn straight."

Jamie laughed so loudly, he drew the attention of everyone in the yard.

"What?" Simon asked.

"Nothing," Jamie chuckled, clapping him hard on the back. "I just didn't expect you to agree with me like that. 'Damn straight.'"

"What's so funny?" Jayne asked, coming outside again, handing around the gin.

"Dad's sex life."

"New subject," Simon said, taking a drink quickly to drown his embarrassment.

Jayne shrugged and squeezed next to them on the step so they were packed shoulder to shoulder. "Hey, Doc. A friend of mine – one-leg Billy – wanted to know if you had any sex tips for gimps."

Simon nearly choked on his drink, and Jayne laughed at him.

"He gets so red," Jayne guffawed, looking around to Jamie.

"Sorry, dad," Jamie said, smothering his laughter with the back of his hand.

"No. By all means, laugh at my expense," Simon said, holding his drink in the air. "One day, you'll bring a lady home and you'll be sorry."

Jamie put an arm around his shoulder and hugged him playfully, but as soon as Simon reciprocated, Jamie pressed against him needily. He felt Jamie flinch, and then caught sight of the reddened skin on Jamie's neck, where his son had been marked. It was not precision ink work, and Simon knew that that is what Jayne had wanted him to see. He hugged his son a little tighter.

Then Jamie whispered plaintively in his ear, "I love you."

*~*


	10. Part 9

PART 9

Zoë had been stewing the whole night over the identity of Michael's captain. She'd never known him by name, but she remembered every word that was spoken between them, and she couldn't believe her little brother had been traveling more than a year with this man, and she wanted Michael to know that he was safer than he'd ever realized.

Tipping open the door to Michael's room, she saw him lying in his bed next to Courtney. Michael was fast asleep, and Zoë thought she'd never seen him sleeping so soundly. He and Courtney were laying side-by-side on top of the blankets, holding hands, but not touching anywhere else. It looked like they'd fallen asleep gazing into each other's eyes, and Zoë figured that was the reason no one else had disturbed them. With a devious grin, she snuck across the hallway to her own room, found her camera, and went back to take a picture.

Michael stirred and rolled over, blinking his eyes irritably when he saw her with the capture.

"Zoë?" He mouthed the word more than he said it, and then cleared his throat. "Are you drunk?"

"A little," she confessed, setting down the capture. "We're still cleaning up downstairs."

"That's why I volunteered for set-up," he grumbled, then rolled back to face Courtney and go to sleep. He scooted closer to Courtney, making space on the bed, in case Zoë wanted to bunk with them for the night. Given the number of people here, it was likely someone would end up on the floor. Zoë sat next to Michael, and poked his shoulder again.

"I wanted to talk to you," she whispered insistently. Maybe she was more drunk than she realized. She didn't know if she was being quiet enough.

"It's three in the morning," Michael complained, lifting his head enough to glare at her. "Can't it wait?"

Zoë made a face as she thought about it, but then shrugged and left. There really was no urgent need to have this conversation now. She was half-way down the hall before Michael got curious enough to chase her.

"Jie jie, wait," he said, jogging to catch up with her. "What is it?"

"Berke," Zoë said simply. "I've met him before."

Michael rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I gathered as much."

Zoë looked up and down the hallway, making sure no one was listening before she spoke again. "He lost his daughter thirteen years ago. I think it was the same wave that nearly killed you and Aunt River. And I'm almost certain he's protecting another reader."

Michael tensed, finding the revelation more unnerving than relieving. "Do you mention the cocktail if you only suspect he's protecting someone?"

Zoë nodded. She was not in the habit of keeping the life saving medicine a secret. The news only further agitated Michael.

"So he might know about me already."

Zoë nodded again and touched Michael's arm encouragingly. "Follow your gut, but it's probably safe to let your abilities show a little more."

"No, are you crazy?" he hissed, jerking away from her and pacing down the hall. He turned sharply, raking his hands through his hair and then closing them over his ears. "That's just what he wants. That's why he brought in Courtney – he knows about the soothers and wants to control me. The Feds pegged us after the Osiris heist. Jamie, he … oh, God. Berke sold us that ship."

"You're being paranoid," Zoë said critically, pulling her brother's hands away from his face before he started digging in with his nails.

"Am I?" Michael asked a little too loudly.

They both fell silent as the floor creaked in Michael's bedroom. A minute later, Courtney padded into the hallway sleepily, and pinched Michael's arm as she passed them on the way to the bathroom.

"Your family would probably be able to sleep if they weren't all hyped up on cake," she said sarcastically.

Michael watched her go, his face clouding with hurt, as though his treasured new girlfriend were suddenly revealed as a Trojan horse.

"Yes, you're being paranoid," Zoë said firmly.

"How can I be anything but?" he asked forlornly. "Even Uncle Jayne betrayed Aunt River once."

"Because she was a fugitive and worth a pretty penny," Zoë pointed out. "Not because she was a reader."

Michael glared at her angrily. "The law isn't looking for me because they don't know about me. That doesn't mean there's not a price on every reader's head."

Zoë stayed silent as the bathroom door opened and Courtney came by again. As she passed them, she put her hand on Michael's elbow, raised up on tip-toes, and kissed his cheek sweetly.

"Night, Babe," she whispered, and then walked away.

Michael's eyes flashed and he whipped around as fast as lightning, grabbing her elbow, and pulling her back to his side. At first, she wrestled back thinking he was being playful, but Michael got rough.

"Hey, easy!" Courtney carped, swatting him irritably.

Michael loosened his grip, but didn't say anything. He was confused and acting rashly and Zoë wanted to help, but she knew it was best to just wait for Michael's words to surface. After being jerked around, Courtney had no such patience.

"Did something happen?" she asked, looking from Zoë to Michael. "Something else, I mean."

"What do you know about Berke?" Zoë asked her, when it became apparent that Michael couldn't.

Courtney's looked at her warily. "He's a friend of my uncle. Why?"

"Is that why he hired you?" Michael asked bitterly.

"He hired me because I'm a damn good pilot," she said defensively. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Zoë said quickly.

"How did the Feds peg us after the Osiris heist?" Michael asked.

Courtney tensed, realizing she was on trial.

"You know!" she said insistently. "The incubator had already been tagged. But it was our primary target and we were on a strict deadline. We couldn't leave it behind in favor of the other goods or the whole thing would've been a bust. You know all this, Michael. Now you tell me why you're suddenly so suspicious of the Captain."

Michael ripped at his hair, not knowing what to believe and Zoë prepared to stop him in case he lashed out.

"He trusts you with his life every day," Courtney said, desperately. "We both do. Michael –"

Zoë held up her hand, warning Courtney to be quiet and wait. She got herself as quiet as possible, and bowed her head to lend her brother strength. Courtney tapped Zoë's arm and mouthed the words 'is he okay' and Zoë nodded apologetically. Michael reached out to Courtney, but she backed away fearfully.

"Is he protecting a reader?" Michael whispered.

"Why are you asking me these things?" she pleaded, her eyes shining with tears. "You know the answer."

"So he is," Zoë confirmed.

"Well, yes, I supposed," she said, throwing her hands in the air and looking at Michael. "Inasmuch as you let him. Michael, he loves you like his own. He'd never betray you."

Michael's eyes went wide as saucers and he looked at Courtney incredulously, mouthing the words 'You know?'

Courtney stuttered and stared back at him, realizing that he didn't know his secret was out. She nodded uncertainly, still glancing to Zoë for direction. "Why? Were you looking for someone else?"

"Does he know about you?" Michael asked breathlessly.

"I'm not –" she stammered. "I'm not a reader. I'm not anything. Am I?"

Michael covered his face and opened his mouth in a silent scream, then he peeked out from behind his hands and whispered timidly. "You're everything to me."

*~*

Inara didn't remember falling asleep, but she woke up in her bed, roused by a sound in the hallway. She stretched tiredly and listened, trying to discern if there was any danger. Had Daquan not showed up and unexpectedly crashed the party, she'd have dismissed it as a simple fight over bed space. As it was, she considered herself lucky to have her own bed to herself. It was just after three in the morning and she'd been packing her things, preparing to move away from this planet for good. Her shoes were off and her dress was draped over the back of a chair. Mal must have found her and changed her, because she wouldn't have changed while there were still guests here. He'd put her in one of his old t-shirts. He said it was easier than trying to get her into one of he silk nightgowns, because he knew where the armholes were and there was enough traction on the fabric that he wouldn't drop her. It was such a tender, loving thing he did.

Touching her face and imagining her husband's sweet kiss, Inara sat up to start packing again. She was too excited to stay in bed. She heard a door close, and peeked into the hall. Zoë stood alone, standing across from Michael's closed door.

"There's room in here," she invited.

Zoë jumped a mile, and looked like she'd been caught stealing. "Were you listening?"

"No," Inara said, becoming immediately concerned by her daughter's tone. "Was there something to hear?"

Zoë looked guiltily at Michael's closed door. "I was trying to help, but I don't think I did."

"The way those two have been looking at each other all night, I'm sure you haven't done anything nearly as damaging as you think," Inara assured. "Come on and lie down."

Rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, Zoë looked from Inara to the stairs. "I said I'd help clean."

Before Inara could protest, Zoë trotted down the stairs and into the back yard. Inara went to the window in her bedroom and pressed her nose to the glass, seeing Cole, Jayne, and Mal still out there. Mal greeted Zoë when she came into the yard and tackled her playfully onto the ground. He would miss this place. As much as they both wanted to return to the sky, he loved this home, and tonight he was saying good-bye.

Deciding she needed to say good-bye too, Inara went to her closet, slipped into more appropriate attire, and headed down the hall. She pressed her ear to Michael's door, and heard him talking somberly to Courtney. She desperately wanted to know what Zoë had said, but she didn't dare interrupt them. Crossing the hall, she tipped open Cole's door to check on River and Serry.

She laughed, finding the room fuller than she expected. Kaylee was half asleep, snuggled in Simon's arms, and they were lying on the bed together staring at each other. River was draped perpendicularly across their knees alternately quoting Romeo and Juliet and counting backwards from a hundred.

"Hey, 'Nara," Kaylee greeted sleepily. "I thought you went to bed hours ago."

"Inara, I'm glad you're here," Simon said. He tried to jump out of bed, but first he had to extract himself from Kaylee and dig his legs out from under River.

"It's a present," River said sweetly, rolling onto her stomach.

"You already gave me a space ship," Inara said, watching curiously as Simon went to the desk and fingered through the littering of medical supplies there.

"This is better than a space ship," Simon said surely.

"Better?" Kaylee asked. She looked at Inara and shrugged, clearly having no idea what her husband was up to.

Simon found his computer pad, rooted through the files, then handed it to Inara. "Jamie gave me this earlier tonight. It's a draft of a letter to the medical journal."

"How is that better than –" Kaylee quipped, but stopped when she saw the look on Inara's face. The title alone rendered Inara breathless and she practically fainted into the nearest chair. Simon rushed to catch her, but he was smiling like crazy.

"I guess I should have told you to sit down first," he said.

"A cure?" she managed. Mal was right. Medical breakthrough happened every day, and Jamie was making tons of them.

"I haven't read the details, but it's possible," Simon said. "Jamie stumbled on it by accident and dismissed it because it's a childhood disease and the treatment was too harsh for a child. But on a healthy adult …"

"Will it … can it …" She couldn't even finish her thoughts, she was so overwhelmed with the possibility that the transition would not kill her. She could finally grow old with her husband.

"It's a starting point," Simon said, but was unable to squelch the hope under that reservation. "That's more than I had before."

*~*


	11. Part 10

PART 10

Jamie was hiding out in Uncle Mal and Aunt 'Nara's master bathroom. It was once a room in itself, but since they'd had no need for it as such, they'd knocked down a few walls and added a hot tub and a lot of counter space. Despite the occasional scented candle, there was a mark of simplicity that made it comfortable for a man to share this space. There were no floral patterns or fruity colors. The shower was huge with dual heads – one at the perfect height for Mal, the other for Inara. The lighting around the vanity on one of the sinks was perfect for shaving. The hot tub was broad enough and long enough for Jamie to recline in without feeling claustrophobic, which was saying a lot. Jamie decided that one day he'd have a bathroom like this. His apartment on Osiris had a tiny bathroom and his shower sprayed water on his shoulders. The latter problem had arisen only because he'd grown six inches since signing the lease.

Jamie was lying down, tossing a scented fizzy ball in the air and catching it again. Everyone had seen he was tired, and they'd probably thought he'd found some place to crash. As tired as he was, he couldn't stop turning Uncle Jayne's words in his head. Now his dad knew something too, but at least he'd had the decency to not ask too many questions. If he told mom, she'd tell Aunt 'Nara who'd tell Uncle Mal. He shouldn't have come.

Jamie heard the bathroom door open and he debated whether he should keep hiding and hope the person didn't look in the tub. He peeked over the edge to see who it was, and when his inflatable pillow croaked, he was suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Genny!" he said holding up his hands in surrender.

His sister recognized him, clicked on the safety, and let out a string of curses. "Yesu, Jamie."

He appreciated that she didn't ask him what he was doing here, but he didn't want to ignore her, so he sat on the edge of the tub and started tossing the fizzy ball again. Her face was red and her eyes bloodshot, and she washed her face in the sink, then started perusing the make-up cabinets to paint over her splotchy skin so that no one would know she was upset. It was too late for her as well.

"Did you and Cole work out … whatever it is you needed to work out?" he asked. He didn't want to pry too much, but he figured he'd talk to Cole in the morning and he wanted to know what temper he'd find his friend in.

Genny took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and blew the air out slowly. "Yeah, I guess we can't hide that there's something to know."

"Showing up to a family gathering was your first mistake," he said with a wry smile. "Or at least it was mine."

Genny sat next to him and put an arm around him as if to say 'glad you're here.' She brushed over that tender spot on his back where the skin around his tattoo was infected. He winced and shifted her arm lower, letting her continue to lean on him, because she looked like she needed it. But she stood up and walked away from him. She was torn about something, and staring at herself in the mirror like she could will the pieces of herself back together.

"I want to be here," she said softly. "I just wish I had more time to work this out in my head before…"

"Before everyone knows," Jamie finished, thinking more of his own turmoil than hers. He looked away from her.

"And they all want to know –"

"And they want you to tell everyone –"

"Like it's good news."

"Like you're a hero."

Jamie tugged at the strands of his hair bitterly and stared vaguely at the space in front of him.

"I went to Osiris – to your lab," Genny confessed and Jamied cringed. "I was going to throw a bag over your head and drag you out kicking and screaming if that's what it took to get you here."

Jamie shot her a look and she smiled sheepishly at him in the mirror.

"Yeah, I didn't realize you'd gotten so buff."

She waited, seeing if he'd explain why he wasn't there or if that was one of the things he wanted more time on. When he kept silent, she spoke again.

"You weren't at your lab, and no one there seemed to know where you were. They thought you were working from home, because every now and then they'd get a wave or another draft of a paper. So I went to your apartment, but you weren't there either. I fed the fish and watered the plants because they looked neglected. Your fish is on my ship, by the way." Genny turned and sat on the countertop, so she could face him directly. "I checked the hospital, but they said you finished your clinical rotations. I kept looking, but … Uncle Jayne got wind, and he told me to stop worrying and just come here. I thought he'd had the same idea. I thought you'd be here when I got here and when you weren't …"

Her face stayed expressionless, and her eyes begged to know why her search had turned up fruitless, but she wouldn't ask more of him than she was willing to give of herself. "I'm glad you're okay. You are –"

"I'm okay," he assured looking at his hands. The mere fact that she refused to ask made him want to tell her, but he didn't know how. Putting on a brave smirk, he grinned at her. "I got a new tattoo."

Genny rolled her eyes. She'd lost fifty platinum betting him he wouldn't get his first tattoo, even though she'd dared him right in the middle of his own birthday party with everyone watching. It was a small Chinese kanji for 'genius' – the design was Cole's idea – on the inside of his forearm.

Jamie shrugged off his vest and unbuttoned his shirt. He was about to chicken out, and stop there. He could push up the sleeve and show her Caduceus on his bicep that he'd gotten a few months back, marking him as a doctor. But so long as he didn't have to say anything out loud, he could press on. He pulled off his undershirt and turned around so she could see. It was a long tattoo on his back starting at the base of the neck and going below the waistline, framing his spine. There was a bandage over the infected part, and it was on cleanly enough that she would know their father had dressed it.

She would know by the fuzziness of the lines that he didn't get this tattoo from a parlor. He wasn't surprised when she opted for an easier conversation and touched the Caduceus first.

"I thought you were going to wait 'til graduation to get this one," she remarked.

"I did it after my first publication," he shrugged. "It seemed appropriate."

He tensed as her fingers ghosted over his shoulder blades and traced the ink on his back, searching for the right words as though they were encrypted in the design.

"This cost more than the others," she finally said.

It meant something that she recognized the cost without criticizing the silence. It was Uncle Jayne's first question. It was his dad's first question. Anyone else who found out would also likely ask him why he didn't say something sooner.

"We give everything for the ones we love," he explained. "Someone had to take the hit, and there's no sense in all of us getting pinched."

"Yeah, but I would've … brought you cigarettes or illicit drugs to trade for protection or something."

Jamie chuckled at the thought, but he didn't want to tell her about the inside. He just wanted to keep her from getting there herself. With his secret revealed, Jamie pulled on his shirts again and sat on the side of the tub. They'd both come in here to hide, but Jamie was here first, so if she wanted to be alone, she'd have to find some place else.

"I want you to leave Osiris and come be a medic on my ship," she said seriously, hopping on the countertop again and kicking her feet at the air. She thought she could protect him and he resented it. Plus, he'd never get his perfect man's bathroom on a space ship.

"I have school to finish," he said dismissively. "I have work. I run that whole damn lab."

"You were gone for I don't know how long, and no one even noticed," she pointed out. "I want you to be in the company of people who notice."

"I don't have to live on your ship for that," Jamie groused. "You could have noticed if you wanted. Uncle Jayne noticed."

"I had other things on my mind," Genny said, her face suddenly clouding over and her eyes misting. Before he knew it, there were tears streaming down her cheeks and she grabbed for a tissue to catch them.

"Right, this whatever-it-is between you and Cole," Jamie said, crossing the room and pulling her into a forgiving hug. "When did you become such a cry baby?"

Genny laughed tearfully at herself. "It's a recent development."

She wiped her face, frustrated by her moment of weakness, and brooded quietly. Jamie sat next to her on the countertop and put an arm around her. It wasn't often that he saw her guard drop like that. She wasn't just torn about something, she was tortured.

"I showed you my ink," he said. "Now tell me what's marked you with so much pain."

He waited a long time for her answer. His legs went numb from sitting on the countertop and he started trying to list all the amino acids alphabetically in his head, just to keep his mind off it. Genny kicked her shoes off and then kept kicking the air.

"I haven't told anyone," she whispered. "I wasn't even going to tell Cole. I was just gonna … and then Cole found out and now he's … and now I can't – I can't…"

"Finish sentences?" Jamie asked and they laughed uncomfortably. He squeezed her across the shoulders. "If it's enough for you that Cole knows, you don't have to tell me."

He waited again, watching his sister. She took deep breaths, like she was terrified to speak, and was building up the nerve.

"I'm gonna have a baby," she said quickly, then choked. She forced a smile, but couldn't maintain it, and she panted, trying to feel as excited as she was supposed to about the whole thing. Jamie watched her, staying completely dead-panned, waiting for her to stop faking emotion so he could see what she really felt. Finally she calmed and she watched him expectantly, desperate for a response.

"It is a natural side-effect of all that sex you two have been having," he said pretentiously.

That got him a genuine smile, but only for a moment. He shouldn't have forced her to talk so soon. She wasn't ready.

"Did you tell Cole you had planned to terminate?" he asked.

Genny shook her head and looked shamefully at her knees. In his clinical rotations, Jamie had counseled a few young women through abortions. Some never made it to the table. Some made it to the table, but left when they saw the heart-beat. Some finished the deed with full confidence they'd made the right decision. Now that Cole knew, Genny felt she had lost her choice.

"I'll talk to him," Jamie said. "We'll see if we can fix this before it gets out of hand."

"I can fight my own battles," she said strongly.

"I'm sure you can, but it doesn't look to me like you are," he countered.

"Well, we talk, and it always makes sense in the end to just keep going," Genny said meekly, covering her mouth with her hand, and fighting back tears. Jamie knew that Cole could talk a person into walking off a cliff if he had a mind to. It was his special gift. Genny didn't know her mind on this matter and she wasn't going to know until she was fighting tooth and nail to get her way.

"I know this face on you," Jamie said, pulling her hand away from her lips and squeezing her fingers. "We shared a womb, remember? There we were growing nose hairs and toe nails and stuff and when it was time to go out, you got that same look on your face and made me go out first."

Genny laughed at him again and clung wistfully to the metaphor. "Well we were starting this whole new life, you know. We had no idea what we were in for; we were just told to sail out into the fog and hope for the best. Everyone says it's worth the journey…"

She stood up and paced the room, wrapping her arms protectively around her middle. Jamie slid off the countertop and shook out his legs, keeping an eye on her, but giving her space.

"Let me ask you this. Since you found out, have you felt happy at all? Have you felt anything besides fear?"

Genny thought, but was clearly coming up empty. "I was happy that you didn't squeal joyfully about being an uncle and shower me pre-canned congratulations. Cole is so excited and …"

She fisted the front of her shirt, grabbing hold of her emotions and shelving them again. She wasn't free to feel any of it. Coming next to Jamie, she vaguely traced the buttons on his shirt, like she was touching the tattoo again.

"We give everything for the ones we love," she whispered. Jamie grabbed her wrist sharply.

"Not this," he said firmly, and she looked at him in shock. "Yeah, I lost a little time and gained a tattoo. I can have the mark removed at any time. You … if you don't want this child, you have a limited time in which to say. You can't have a baby removed whenever you want."

"But I … I don't want …" she whispered.

"I can do the procedure myself," he said forcefully, jerking her arm and pulling her to the door. "We'll use the Infirmary on your ship and be done with it tonight."

"Okay," Genny said uncertainly, letting herself be pulled.

They were lucky the bedroom was empty, but there was no way they'd get out the front door without being seen. Jamie wondered how far they would get. Would she stop him when she saw the heart beat? Cole would never forgive him, but Jamie didn't know what else to do. He had to choose between his sister and his best friend.

Jamie motioned Genny toward the window facing the front of the house. He pushed out the screen and they climbed onto the porch awning. Taking her wrists, he swung her down, lowering her gently until her feet touched the porch railing. He was tall enough to make the drop on his own.

They froze when they heard laughter from the back yard.

"Cole," Genny whispered. "I can't."

"No one has to know," Jamie whispered. "We'll tell Cole you miscarried."

Genny nodded, but her feet didn't move. Jamie tugged her hand, but she jerked away from him. "No … No! It will kill him."

"What about you? He'll get past it," Jamie assured. "Cole loves you.

"Not Cole. My baby," Genny wept, falling to her knees. Jamie hugged her tightly and rocked her side-to-side, wondering if he was so lucky that they'd stop here. He wasn't going to carry her. If she wanted this, she'd have to walk on her own two feet. He loved his sister, and he'd do anything for her, and no matter what the repercussions, he was offering her this choice.

*~*

Michael lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, processing everything that had been said tonight. It was a cruel irony that in finding out he could trust Courtney with his secrets, he may have blown his chance at ever having a relationship with her. They'd talked for awhile, but she was agitated and edgy, and he couldn't find any of the words that he wanted. He didn't tell her she was a soother, because he didn't want her to feel like there were any false pretenses in their friendship. Cole had gone all these years not knowing.

At least she hadn't left. She was lying in bed with her back turned to him, and he reached out and touched her hair, coiling her dark brown curls around his finger. In his head, he kept apologizing for hurting her, but he'd said it out loud more than once already and she'd asked him to stop. She hadn't known about him – she'd only suspected. But Berke knew. It would be a whole new day, going back to his ship now, knowing that at least part of his new family shared his secret and had been protecting him all along. They were leaving at mid-day for a job, and being able to use his abilities without hiding the fact he was … it changed everything down to the entrance strategy.

Sighing heavily, Michael realized he needed to get some sleep or he'd be completely useless for the job. He combed his fingers through Courtney's hair again, and smiled softly. He loved her so much, it was too easy to forget they'd been fighting. Rolling onto his side, he gazed at her dreamily, daring to hope this wouldn't be the last time they shared a bed.

"If I told you I love you, would that be too much for one day?" he whispered.

Courtney rolled onto her elbows and looked at him, and Michael's eyes widened. He hadn't even realized she was awake, but she'd heard him. He couldn't read her face and he didn't want to read her mind without her permission, so he stayed frozen, waiting for her to move again. After a few moments, she smiled sleepily, and nestled into the crook of his arm.

"Does it still count as today? Tell me again tomorrow," she murmured, closing her eyes and melting against him tiredly.

Michael sighed contentedly and pulled a blanket over them, eagerly awaiting tomorrow. "Okay."

"And every day after that."

"Okay," he laughed, wrapping his arms around her.

*~*


	12. Part 11

PART 11

Cleaning up after the party was slow going, partly because it was still dark and partly because Mal was still tipsy. They'd set up a few work lights, and Mal, Jayne, and Cole were wandering through the darkness, collecting trash and righting anything that looked fallen. Little Zoë had pushed herself too hard and her brief respite of sitting on the picnic table had turned into a nap apparently. Mal went to the table and nudged her shoulder, and she looked up at him tiredly.

"Go on inside," he said.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "If I move again, I'll just get colder."

Mal laughed and rubbed her arm, trying to warm her a little. Then he thought better of it and laid down on the table next to her, gathering her in his arms. She would always be his baby girl, and he was glad they'd had a few months to share this home. He missed having her around, but he was proud of the path she was carving out for herself in the 'verse. Sometimes he got choked up, wondering how many more years she had left before the cancer took her, but he tried not to think negatively. The past few months, they'd come out here a lot, and they'd lie on the table and stare at the sky. Now, she snuggled up to him and he kept her warm. He had a few more weeks with her while she finished her recovery, then she'd be off traversing the sky again on a path he couldn't go.

Jayne grunted disapprovingly at them for not working, then he laid down on the bench. Cole took up the other bench, and the four of them were just lying their like idiots, freezing their noses off, looking up at the stars.

Jamie trotted up, carrying Genny piggy back, both smiling.

"Do y'all need blankets? Or maybe a sanity check?" Jamie asked. Genny hopped on Jamie's back and knelt next to Cole, and they started whispering furtively.

"Speak up, Little Genny! I'm trying to eavesdrop," Jayne hollered.

Genny made a face, and she and Cole retreated toward the creek for more privacy.

"Bring him back!" Mal yelled after them, sitting up slowly so he wouldn't get dizzy. "He's cleaning the yard for the both of you. That was the agreement, Ms. Genny."

Mal carefully disentangled himself from Zoë, who was now fast asleep. "Jamie, did you come to take Zoë's place?"

Jamie shot him an insolent look, like Mal was stupid for even suggesting Jamie help with cleanup. "I opt out on account of I came late ate less than half a pound of meat."

"That's an atrocity," Mal said dryly. He knew Jamie had finished off almost two cakes on his own. "The meat's inside. Go and finish what you can. Take Zoë upstairs."

Jamie stared at him in surprise, having not expected to be excused from helping so easily.

"Quick, before he changes his mind," Jayne joked.

"Thanks," Jamie said incredulously, scooping Little Zoë in his arms like she was a featherweight and carrying her inside. Mal looked at Jayne and laughed tiredly. Someone needed to carry him inside.

*~*

Simon leaned on the kitchen counter, rubbing his fingers over his dry lips, turning the pill bottle in his hand. This was supposed to be his night off – his only night off – not having to doctor after anyone or be responsible for any aspect of hosting. It was his last night to take a breath, and try to get through a day relaxed enough to not fall back on these damn pain pills. He was supposed to be strolling leisurely around the back yard, not rushing up and down the stairs so fast he needed his cane to hold him up. He'd managed to get about five hours of fairy tale before things went to hell. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He'd stolen another moment, when Jamie first arrived and told him to sit while he took care of River. He could take a breath again, and he considered not guzzling that coffee. But Jamie had come with fresh scars of his own, and it became one more thing for Simon to take care of… always one more thing. Twisting open the pill bottle, Simon shook out two tabs and stared at them bitterly.

"You're still up?" Jamie asked, coming into the kitchen and hopping on the counter.

Simon jumped and closed his fist around the pills. Quickly, he put them in his mouth and grabbed the nearest glass, using whatever was in it to swallow the pills. It tasted like tea.

"I could say the same for you," Simon said, smiling disarmingly. "I drank too much coffee trying to sober myself up."

"I always thought you didn't like coffee," Jamie said socially, reaching for the nearest cake and breaking off a piece. Truth be told, Simon loved coffee, but he never stocked it in his own home, because he didn't like being addicted to it. It hardly seemed to matter now. He twisted the lid onto the pills, and stuffed the bottle in his pocket.

"Didn't you just take one of those a few hours ago?" Jamie asked through a mouthful of cake.

Simon ducked his head. He'd been praying for months for someone to call him out on this, but not here, and not now. Jamie seemed more interested in the cake than his answer, so with a shrug, he mumbled, "It's been that kind of day – up and down the stairs."

Jamie slid off the countertop and smiled sympathetically. Simon flinched when Jamie's hands fell on his shoulders, but he sighed when Jamie massaged him gently. He groaned involuntarily and leaned into it. It was another moment to breathe, and he didn't have many left, so he may as well enjoy it.

"So this cure you've found for Tome's –" he began.

"It's not a cure."

"Could a healthy adult survive the treatment?" Simon persisted. Jamie's knuckle worked the knots in his shoulders and Simon felt his knees go weak.

"Why would a healthy adult need it?" Jamie asked, thinking it over. "Tome's Dystaxia can't be weeded out at the carrier level."

"What if the disease were simply dormant in a person's body," Simon asked.

Jamie's hands froze. "You've found a way to suspend development? For how long? Does the disease mutate in when it resurfaces?"

"Slow down," Simon laughed, hobbling to the dining table and sitting. "Take a breath."

Jamie's eyes were wide as he mulled the possibilities and Simon watched delightedly. He loved seeing this look in his son.

"Why delay treatment?" Jamie finally asked, coming up behind Simon and massaging his shoulders again. "Why not suspend development indefinitely?"

"Side-effects," Simon shrugged, then hesitated, taking a moment to consider Inara before he revealed too much. His thoughts were fuzzy from the mixture of meds, caffeine, and alcohol, and Jamie was massaging away the remnants of his inhibitions. Jamie was more like an expert consult anyway. "What I am about to tell you cannot leave the two of us. Inara has Tome's –"

"Of course!" Jamie interrupted, throwing his arms in the air. "The Guild used their youth chip to modify DNA markers for aging. I didn't realize it would suppress the disease. That's brilliant! The applications for treatment of childhood diseases will –" Jamie went non-verbal with incredulity for a moment, paced around the table, then fell into the chair across from Simon. His face was lit like a Christmas tree, sparkling with ideas. "This is incredible!"

"How do you know about the device?" Simon asked, still stuck on the fact that he'd been interrupted.

Jamie chuckled and shrugged. "When Cole was applying to the Academy, I knew there were certain things they only allowed Guild physicians to do. I didn't want anything happening to him that I didn't know how to treat."

"So you became Guild certified?"

"Not officially," Jamie grinned slyly. "Genny hacked into their computer for me."

Simon rubbed his eyes, perplexed by how his two children could be so morally strong, but so severely defiant of legal boundaries. He supposed they got it from him. "Do you think she could survive the treatment?"

"She won't have to," Jamie said easily, sprawling in his chair. "Since we don't have to worry about physical or mental retardation effects, there's a much more direct way to treat it with a modified antibiotic – assuming it hasn't mutated. I probably have some at the lab."

Simon tugged his ear and stared at Jamie. He'd said it so flippantly, like it was obvious Inara had nothing to worry about, and Simon could see the steam coming out of his ears as he thought of a hundred other applications for the youth chip technology – if the Guild would share it.

Feeling his head getting heavy, Simon rested his chin on his hands and closed his eyes. The meds were kicking in and countering the caffeine enough that maybe he could sleep a few hours. Kaylee was expecting him to come back to bed. Hearing the rattle of a pill bottle, Simon's eyes shot open. He didn't know when Jamie had palmed it – probably while massaging Simon's bones to jelly – but Jamie had his pain meds and was reading the script on the side. Telling himself to stay calm, Simon put on his best poker face and watched carefully.

"How many of these have you had today?" Jamie asked nonchalantly, opening the lid and eyeballing the number of pills that were left.

Simon shrugged and reached across the table for them, trying to take them back without swiping. He didn't want them to spill. Jamie held them just out of reach.

"You know, they're once a day pills, not once an hour."

"No need to get cheeky," Simon countered, holding his hand out again. "They're my pills, and I'd like them back."

Shaking his head, Jamie stood up and went to his suitcase in the hall, and pulled out his own medical bag. "You don't need them. You're going to try that therapy I told you about. A minor surgery, a little PT …"

"I told you, I don't want to," Simon growled, grabbing his cane and following Jamie into the hall. If only he could rest, his leg would heal on its own.

"Yeah, well, you lost your ability to choose when you did this," Jamie said, turning just enough to wave the bottle at Simon again. "It looks like you've gone through about two months worth in two weeks."

Simon felt his temper flaring, but he didn't have the energy to fight. He had a half dozen excuses he could give to Jamie, but they'd sound as weak as when he made them for himself. It started when River showed up, and then Zoë relapsed, and then Serry came along, and then they sold their home to live on the ship, and Simon had never been a fan of ships, but Kaylee was so land-crazy; and now Daquan had appeared from nowhere…

There was such a brief time when River was stable and living away from them, and the kids had moved away from home, and he wasn't a medic on a ship, constantly patching up wounds, and all he had to do any day was wake up to his wife, and walk the beaches during the day, and he'd felt peace for the first time since he was a kid. After the first month of that fairy tale life, the pain in his leg had subsided to where he barely noticed it except for a little stiffness the first few minutes after he woke up. There was so much he carried now, and he did what he had to in order to survive.

He watched as Jamie pulled a pen light and a heating pad from his med bag, and Simon resisted the urge to swat with his cane.

"Unless you have something stronger, you had better give them back," Simon warned sternly.

Jamie stood suddenly, towering menacingly over Simon, crowding Simon back into the living room. Jamie was big enough to bully him, and he'd chosen his moment well. He'd probably been waiting for hours.

"Do you want my help?" Jamie challenged, his voice low and threatening. "And before you say no, consider the alternative, because I will wake the entire family right now for an intervention."

Angrily, Simon turned away, threw his cane on the floor, and flopped on the couch, covering his eyes in frustration. Emily was sleeping on the neighboring couch, and she stirred, but fell back asleep quickly. Getting loud would only draw more attention. He could handle this on his own. Jamie was only trying to help, but he had not idea what he was dealing with. With a strong hand on his shoulder, Jamie forced Simon onto his back, and propped Simon's leg on a pillow. Carefully, he rolled up Simon's pant leg to the knee so he could wrap the heating pad around it. Simon had to look away. The sight of his own leg – nothing but skin grafts, scar tissue, and weak muscles – made him ache inside.

"We can work this out with just you and me or I can tell the Captain exactly why his chief medic will be out of commission for the next six months," Jamie said simply.

"Six –"

"That's generous, and you know it," Jamie countered with a warning in his voice. He finished the wrap, and switched it on. It was surprisingly cold. Simon looked curiously at the hand control when Jamie gave it to him, and saw that the device worked as both a cold and hot pad. He hadn't seen one of these in ages. Jamie covered Simon's leg with a blanket, as if he knew how much it pained Simon to see. "So, Dad, what's it going to be?"

Taking a deep breath, Simon worked desperately to wrap his mind around what was happening. He knew he was lucky Jamie wasn't pumping his stomach, but Jamie was a master of discretion, and as hard as things were getting, Simon knew he was getting off easy. Jamie seemed to know that Simon had beat himself up enough over this, and didn't need to hear it again. Simon didn't want help and he needed it at the same time.

"I don't want the therapy," he said softly. "I can stop. Things are calming down and I'll get back to the prescribed regiment – tomorrow."

Jamie pressed his fingers against Simon's forehead, massaging gently, taking away the tension, and leaving peace. "Alright. We can talk through some options, but I'm not leaving you an excuse to take those pills ever again."

"The ship –"

"- can find another medic," Jamie finished. "You are the only dad I have and I'm not losing you to this."

Simon's heart twisted. "River –"

"I'll take care of Aunt River," Jamie said soothingly. "I'll take care of Aunt 'Nara. In fact, I will come be medic on the ship. For the next six months, you are not to enter the Infirmary. You won't take meds and you won't administer them. You are on sabbatical or vacation or leave or whatever you need to call it. As of now, you are no one's doctor."

Simon's throat tightened, and he pushed Jamie's hands away. He tried to sit up on the couch, but his head was so heavy. He was a doctor. He was always the doctor. What would he be when no one needed him? Where would he be, if not the Infirmary?

"You're not a surgeon," Simon said.

Jamie chuckled softly, recognizing the desperation, and he took Simon's hand.

"You're right. And if someone's life is on the line, no one will keep you from helping," Jamie said softly. "But the only one at a life or death juncture right now is you, so I'm stepping in and taking this mantle from you."

Tears fell down Simon's cheeks as he turned his head to the side, overwhelmed as much by shame as relief. He hated so much that his son had to do this for him, but no one else in the whole galaxy could. No one else would have known the right words – when to be firm, and when to be gentle. No one else could have said 'I'll take care of River.' He wouldn't have trusted them – wouldn't have believed. Jamie was the only person in the that he trusted to help; and he needed help, but he couldn't ask this of his son. Jamie was just barely finding his own strength. He would break, just as Simon had.

"I can't let you do this," Simon whispered. "You can't handle it."

"I won't have to for long," Jamie assured, his voice calm and soothing. "If I need help, you'll be right there. But for now, you need to rest. You'll get better, and then we can share the load."

Jamie held his hand calmly, looking on him without blame or pity. He leaned a little to pull a blanket over Emily, and then he grabbed a book from the coffee table to page through. He knew to sit there, without arguing or patronizing or criticizing. Simon stared at him, feeling sad, grateful, and proud, seeing a miracle, a friend, and a confidant that he could not have dared to dream or hope for.

Kaylee padded softly down the stairs and leaned over the railing, smiling when she saw them.

"I thought you were coming back – oh, am I interrupting?"

"No," Jamie said quickly, and motioning Kaylee to come. He took the electric control from Simon, switched the wrap from cold to hot, and then stood to leave. There were no harsh warning looks as he left. He gave his mom a hug, then retreated to the kitchen, leaving only a soft smile, and mouthing the words 'I love you, dad.'

Simon smiled, laughed, and sobbed in a single breath. He had to wonder if Jamie had done what he had with the wrap so Simon would have an excuse to be laying on the couch right now with tears in his eyes. Kaylee came to the couch, and bumped his hip lightly, scooting in next to him. Their hands clasped, resting on Simon's chest, and Kaylee kept looking to the door leading to the kitchen.

"Is Jamie okay?" she asked.

"He's fine," Simon said, swallowing his emotion and putting on his 'good husband' mask. He was faltering. There was so much he needed to tell Kaylee, but he couldn't find the words to confess anything. He couldn't explain anything. But he needed to tell her something, because her delicate fingers were tenderly tracing his face, feeling the dampness of his cheek.

"I … I need a break." It's what he always said when he needed time to rest, and she usually backed off, and gave him space for an hour or so.

"I know," she said. She lay carefully beside him on the couch, balancing precariously on the edge, and running her hands soothingly up and down his arm. She sensed he meant something more, and she was waiting, but he couldn't say anything else for now. He rested his cheek against hers, trying not to think of the future. When she pinched him playfully, he smiled.

"I know it's not much," she said softly, "but I got us six days."

"What?"

Kaylee smiled and kissed his nose. "Jamie said he'd look after River and Serry, and Jayne'll stick by 'em and make sure Daquan doesn't give them trouble. Mal and Inara have a few things to finish out here. That leaves you and me, and we can set ourselves down wherever the jumper will take us – I'm thinking hot springs. Six days, and all you have to do is kiss me in the morning and tell me I'm pretty."

Simon smiled joyfully, but he ached from it. A million thoughts crowded into his mind, centering around withdrawal from the pain meds, and whether Jamie would trust him enough to let him out of his sight. His wife had found a way to give him what he needed, and he'd ruined it before they even started.

"Hey, now," she said, catching the tears in his eyes. "Stop thinking of all the things that can spoil this. There's no time in the schedule for that. Just tell me where you want to go."

Simon couldn't speak. So he held his wife, and wept bittersweet tears.

*~*

Mal stretched and sat on the bench, exchanging a look with Jayne, debating whether to press on or give in to sleep. It had been a good night over all. They'd leave the world in a few days, take some odd jobs to build up their capital, and then they could start their gun shop with cash. It made sense trading from the boat. They could bypass so many customs laws by simply not selling things on the ground. For customers that didn't have ships, they'd have the short-range shuttle to ferry folk. It was a smart idea, and they already had a good reputation in the market where men were in need of their services. Mal had to hand it to Jayne's wife – Sky knew how to dream practically.

"Coffee or cocoa?" Jayne asked.

A warm drink would be wonderful right now, but caffeine would not. "Cocoa."

As Jayne went inside to get the drinks and warm up, Cole and Genny emerged from the shadows, and he walked her solemnly to the house, keeping one arm around her waist. Mal looked for signs that they'd come to a resolution, but all he could tell was that they'd resolved to talk. Cole kissed Genny goodnight, sent her inside, and stood by the door for a moment, looking ready to jump out of his skin. When he came back to the picnic table, his face was wet, and he kept pressing his palms together and touching his fingertips to his nose, like he wanted to pray but didn't know how. Mal was itching to know what was going on, so he sat across from his son and asked outright.

"Is there news to share?"

"When there's news to share, I'll share it," Cole said neutrally, taking a deep breath, and putting on the same professional mask that his Mama always had. He looked pleasant and calm – not overjoyed, nor overwhelmed with sorrow.

"How many know?" Cole asked distantly.

"I haven't said a word," Mal said. He set his elbow on the table and presented his arm for a wrestling match. Cole considered the invitation a moment, then accepted it emotionlessly.

"Genny keeps you on a tight leash," Mal commented.

Cole made a face. "I'm not whipped am I? I mean … I'm not afraid of her."

Mal chuckled. "If you think she's wrong about something, you tell her, right?"

"Of course," Cole said.

"And then what?"

Now it was Cole's turn to smile. "She tells me what I really think."

They looked at each other, shared the laugh, and then Cole won the match. Shaking out their arms, the started again. They'd go on all night, and Mal never remembered to keep score, but he was sure he lost a lot.

"No, we work it out," Cole said, his eyes twinkling reflectively. "If we talk, I win. If we wrestle, she wins."

"So basically, she decides the winner upfront by choosing how to engage you," Mal teased.

"Not necessarily. If I time it right, I can steer the wrestling into sex. Then we both win, and we can lie there talking like reasonable people."

Mal pushed Cole's hand, gaining some ground, but Cole evened him out and they grinned at each other. One day, he'd give up on honesty and teach his son about cheating in this game.

"Do you tell Mama if you think she's wrong?" Cole asked.

"Hardly ever get the chance," Mal grunted, digging his heels in to get some leverage on Cole. "We both have tendency to do as we think and get each other's opinions after the fact. I don't recommend it. It involves a lot of groveling and begging forgiveness."

"So you are whipped?" Cole teased, and he won the second match.

Mal raised his eyebrow challengingly. "Have you met your Mama? Ain't nothing I wouldn't do to keep hold of her."

Cole looked pensive, like he had more to say, but he cracked his knuckles, and they started again. Mal's fingers were getting cold and he thought about suggesting they move inside.

"I'm glad you're coming with her to Sihnon," Cole said quietly. "A lot of husbands …leave."

Cole had to search for that last word, and Mal knew things were more complicated than he was allowed to reveal. Mal had to wonder if there was more to this transition than Inara had let on. Both Inara and Cole were extremely pensive about the whole affair.

"I imagine they feel betrayed," Mal said carefully. "When you're married to a woman so long, you think you know everything."

Cole looked wistfully back at the house and for a brief moment, he forgot he was wrestling. Mal didn't gain but a few inches, and he lost them as quickly. Cole was sharp and strong, and he could win these matches whenever her chose, but he always chose to have them, like he needed to be connected by the hand before he could connect heart-to-heart.

"You can never know everything," Mal told his son. "Women change by the minute, meaning there's always more mystery to unravel. You may have known Genny since she was born, but never forget that she is a mystery and there's always more to know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cole said, smiling warmly.

"I got loser," Jayne said, coming back to the table with two cups of hot cocoa and a whole bag of marshmallows that had somehow missed getting roasted by the fire. Mal looked at him, but he shrugged defensively. "I'm not taking on Cole!"

Cole laughed and let his arm go slack, losing on purpose.

"Hey!" Mal cried, taking mock offense. "Are you tired of talking to me or something?"

"I'm feeling cocky," Cole said devilishly, putting both elbows on the table, giving a hand to Mal and one to Jayne so he could take both of them at once. Mal grinned at the challenge and clasped Cole's hand, pushing with all his might. His son was still surprisingly strong, though there was significantly more wavering in the battle as he'd concentrate on Jayne one moment and Mal the next. Mal teased him, going slack and then pressing hard.

"Oh, gou shi. This may have been a mistake," Cole grunted, contorting his body, unable to leverage both arms at once. He was still putting up a good fight. "Jamie! I need a hand!"

Jamie sauntered out of the house with taunting slowness, hot cocoa in hand. He considered Cole's predicament, set his mug on the table, and applauded politely. Cole glowered.

"I can tell when you're faking," Jamie goaded. "You're putting most of your energy into not winning."

Cole grunted angrily. "I'm not –"

Jamie poked Cole's side and Cole yelped. With a hard twist, Cole flattened Jayne's hand and freed his arm to swat at Jamie, while still maintaining the match with Mal. Mal was impressed, but he wasn't any closer to winning.

"Jayne," Mal grunted, and Jayne came over. Together, they pulled on Cole's hand, but they were hardly making progress, even with Cole's attention divided. Cole finally gave up pretending, and he slammed Mal's hand on the table, winning the match, and then he launched himself off the bench, tackling Jamie before his friend could get away. The two boys wrestled and laughed, burning off more energy than they had any right to have at this hour.

"Winner cleans up," Mal told them, shaking out his arm. The chill in his bones and the force of the impact made his hand hurt like the dickens.

Cole pinned Jamie a moment and looked up. "That hardly seems fair."

"Except the loser's remains will be splattered across the lawn," Jamie squealed, twisting lithely and gaining the upper hand. With a yelp, Cole wrestled back.

"Do you ever think maybe you spawned a superman?" Jayne asked as the two boys rolled across the lawn to the creek, each with the intent of throwing the other man in the water.

Mal sat at the table across from Jayne and invited a new match – one he at least had a hope of winning, depending on who cheated first and how.

"At least they're on our side."

*~*


	13. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Cole sat next to Genny on the roof of the house and put his arm around her, taking a moment to forget their fears and watch the sun rise.

"Are you sure?" he asked her.

She nodded, but was clearly as uncertain and frightened as he was. However, there was the spark of adventure as she handed him the matches. In hindsight, they probably should have done this a little farther from the house, but Genny said they should take advantage of the rooftop and Cole liked the poetry of the notion. He lit the fuse to launch the firecracker, and it whistled as it flew high into the sky. The firecracker exploded like thunder, raining sparkles over the house, signaling the release of joy, and Cole ran to the edge of the roof and shouted.

"I'm gonna be a dad!" It was so liberating to scream at the top of his voice and let the world know what he'd been celebrating in his heart from the moment he learned it. He shouted over and over, going to each corner of the roof top. The neighbors were drawn from their houses by the noise and most of his family ran out with guns drawn.

"We're having a baby!" Cole cried and they responded with whoops and hollers of their own. He crouched instinctively when he heard a whistle behind him, and when he looked back, Genny just smiled at him, and got out of the way of the next firecracker before it launched.

She ran to his side, smiled only at him and whispered, "We're having a baby!"

Cole picked her up and spun a little, before realizing the roof was too steep for that. She jumped on his back and they looked down at their gathered family, shouting together.

"We're having a baby!"

The group on the lawn broke into applause, and gasped collectively as Cole stumbled on the steep edge. He caught himself and Genny, and lowered her gently to the rooftop, tripping and landing nearly prostrate over her. It had been so long since he'd seen her smile so freely or seen joy that lasted more than a few moments. He kissed her hard and didn't stop until he heard a gentle harrumph.

"Y'all trying for twins?" Jayne asked, and they laughed sheepishly. Jayne went to the edge of the roof and told everyone down below that no one was hurt. Then he turned back and handed them a post-card, much like what he'd given them on their honeymoon – stick figure drawings in various X-rated positions, though one of the stick figures had a rounded belly. Cole showed Genny and she laughed so hard she cried.

"It's more for the later months," Jayne said with a wink. Then he went to their stash of fireworks and prepared to light another. They were stepping into a new day and their lives would never be the same.

*~*


End file.
